


Into Thedas

by rubyhardflames



Series: The Otherworlder [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Culture Talk, Ethnic OC, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Girl in Thedas, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 72,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyhardflames/pseuds/rubyhardflames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a broken toe and a somewhat broken heart, a sheltered girl finds herself thrust into a world filled with templars and mages, rifts and demons, and a glowing green scar in the palm of her hand. </p><p>  <em>Continued in Whispers of the Just.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been playing DA:I for a while and got the idea to do this with a different version of an OC of mine for another fandom. She's usually a confident world-hopping magician who loves adventure - in a darker "reality", she's nothing more than a powerless girl who only dreams of grandeur and adventure. I'll be introducing her in this fic as a new person entirely, so you need not worry about being too confused. Regardless, I'd be glad to answer any questions and am open to constructive criticism. I am also new to Ao3, so I haven't completely got the hang of the tags system yet :P. Do forgive me.
> 
> Should probably add before anyone gets confused that my OC has ethnic origins that will account for a large amount of culture talk in this fic. It'll all be revealed as the story goes along, but just a heads up.
> 
> Disclaimer: BioWare owns the Dragon Age franchise and all its characters...
> 
> ...but all OC's are mine!

A dull, throbbing pain coursed through the back of her head. Her stomach churned in slow, nauseating motions and her neck felt like a weight of lead upon her shoulders. Every limb and rib screamed with a tight, creaking soreness that made her feel a million years old. She was absolutely miserable.

A harsh female voice echoed through her skull, sending sharp pricks of pain throughout its furthermost corners: "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."

The line of spit coagulating on her tongue threatened to dribble out of her mouth as she heaved a gaping breath to stay the nausea. _Shut up...migraine..._

"The Conclave is destroyed," the voice went on. "Everyone who attended is dead...except for you."

 _Dead...everyone..._ She immediately thought of her dogs; green lights in the backyard; the creak of a door against the wind. Her eyes flared open. _N-no! They can't be!_ Her mouth poised to scream–

Her breath caught when she faced the sharp end of a blade.

A rapid hammering started up in her chest as the realization sank in. With a slow turn of her head, she found herself in a dank stone chamber, surrounded on all sides by these sharp bladepoints.

"I...I..." she stuttered. "Where...am I?"

"The prisons," the voice answered curtly.

Prison! She almost reeled back in shock, so out of place did that word seem – but when she tried to reach out a hand to steady her head, she found her wrists locked in tight iron manacles. "Wha..." Her heart beat faster and her breathing sped up along with it. "What am I – Why am I – Why am I handcuffed? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Explain _this._ " A woman with short, choppy hair took a step forward and roughly grabbed her manacles, yanking them upwards. The rest of her body followed along and she yelped when the side of her left foot flared up in pain.

But that did not compare to what happened in her left hand; first, a flickering heat built up in her palm and spread with a tingling, prickly sensation. A second later, her entire palm erupted with a crackling, electric energy that felt as though it would split her very hand in two. She screamed both in pain and fear and shut her eyes tight against the electricity, dancing in wild neon green hues.

"I can't!" she practically sobbed, and it was a wonder she even remembered to answer the statement levied against her in the first place. "Please, please stop it!" she continued, her voice quivering. "I'm afraid of electricity!"

The harsh woman threw her manacles back down and ignored her plea. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"I don't – I don't know what it is! Please, make it stop–"

"You're lying!"

"No," and she was truly sobbing this time. "I swear, I'm not..."

The angry woman made a tight noise in her mouth and the girl braced herself for a strike or whatever else was coming, just as long as it wasn't that scary flare of electricity again. Anything but that.

"We need her, Cassandra," a lighter voice then cut through the chaos. It was calm, assertive, and soothingly mellifluous. The girl opened her eyes a crack to chance a look at its owner. The woman she saw wore a purple hood over her head, but her delicate face and coppery hair were visible beneath the cowl. The woman looked down upon her and asked her, gently, "Do you remember what happened? How all this began?"

 _Remember...what happened..._ Her eyes flitted this way and that as she, in a panic, realized that she couldn't. Her thoughts were a confusing blur and the pain in her head was not helping.

"Calm down," the hooded woman instructed her. "Take a deep breath and try to think: what was the last thing you remember doing?"

The girl shut her eyes and followed the hooded woman's advice. Deep breath. In, out. Think. The last thing she remembered doing. A throb of pain in her head made her wince and the nausea rose into her throat. She forced it back down with a gulp of air and took another deep breath. In, out. She coughed at the end of the second exhalation and that simple cough was enough to make her limbs shake with weariness. She tried not to think about that. She tried to think, instead, of the last thing she remembered...

* * *

 

Sadness. Sadness was the first thing that came to mind. That soul-crushing, heart-wrenching, gut-twisting grief while watching Bilbo's round eyes stare at hers through the window of his new family's car as it receded down the driveway and off to Tennessee. She'd been sad when his other eight littermates found their new homes, but he had been the lovable runt who stayed with them the longest; he had been the one closest to her, the one she resuscitated after being accidentally suffocated by his mother...he was  _special_.

Wait, that was too far back. That was...that was yesterday. Also the same day she'd stubbed and broke her pinkie toe, dammit. No, no, it was earlier _tonight_  when all this craziness started. She remembered because that was when she came home from the hospital for X-rays after finally acknowledging something was wrong. That night, she'd slipped into bed with the pain of a broken toe in her left foot and the dull ache of longing in her heart. 

She had been crying herself to sleep. Yes, it was coming back to her now. Laden with tears, her eyelids had grown heavy as she hugged her cylindrical body pillow tight. She'd been determined to have a good night's sleep after exhausting her pent-up emotions, knowing she had to savor the moment as much as she could before the next trouble hit her. Funny, she never expected it to be waking up in a dark stone dungeon...

And then the dogs had started barking. Her eyes flew wide open, chill dread seeping into her chest. She remembered thinking the neighbors would get upset and complain, which her parents would not take lightly. That train of thought soon devolved into worry of a possible escapade from the fence. Those were the two biggest reasons why she objected to making them outside dogs in the first place, but she was always chastised for voicing her worries instead of complacently agreeing.

She listened for snores from the direction of the master bedroom before daring to slip out of bed. With a careful movement, she gently slipped the injured foot into an orthopaedic shoe and strapped it on. Her drowsy gaze had been fixated while she worked on the white gauze wrapping her pinkie and ring toe together, a ghostly white line in the darkness. Then she rose and hobbled down the hallway, exerting extra effort to make the shoe's sole as silent as her bare foot.

Arriving at the head of the stairs, she reached a tentative hand for the rail and made her slow descent. She turned into a little corridor after reaching the bottom and entered the kitchen. She picked her way through the darkness, rounded the island and counter, and came to a windowed door in a corner of the dining area. She remembered flicking the switch next to the door on and off and watching as a bright golden light illuminated the deck before blinking out. The dogs weren't there, but the barking echoed from their kennels below.

Thus encouraged, she opened the door and stepped outside. The barking immediately assaulted her ears in full clarity as soft moonlight shone down on her from above. What struck her as strange was that it seemed green at the edges, but she dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. Beyond that, everything seemed fine. The warm summer night was gentle and soothing; frogs croaked in the creek that cut through the yard, crickets chirped merrily in the undergrowth, and the breeze sighed contentedly between the leafy treetops. The only thing out of place were the jarring voices of dogs.

 _Oh, dogs_ –  _they'll bark at anything!_ She strained against the railing and scanned the dark ground below, but saw nothing of interest. Meanwhile, the barks were growing louder. She pushed off the railing and slowly made her way across to the deck stairs to check it out anyway. But when she went down the first step, she finally saw what might have provoked them. It was a dim, pulsing green ball hovering midair...

A sound like splintering stone and crackling energy vibrated through the air. With one great burst of green light, she was suddenly thrown onto her back as though pushed by a powerful gust of wind. Her head knocked against the wood, rattling her teeth and jumbling her brain. Her eyes shut upon impact, and when she opened them again, the entire yard was glowing with bright green light – a bright green light that cut through the air like a luminescent scar.

She scrambled to her feet as fast as she could and clung to the railing for support. Her eyes watered as she directly faced this scar, shining so brightly it was almost like staring into the sun. She turned away and painful spots flashed in her eyes. The barking was now at a fierce staccato pace.

 _What is_   _that thing!?_ she thought bewilderingly.

She recomposed herself and went down the stairs. The scar hung above her like a garish crescent moon, twisting and writhing in pulsing movements that threw dancing shadows against everything its light touched. When she reached the ground, the two Akitas stopped barking momentarily to run up to her, pushing their noses into her abdomen as if to tattle on this strange  _thing_  that had interrupted their sleep. She gave them cursory head pats and continued to look up at the phenomena, or at least the edges where the light was less intense, wondering what complex law of science could explain its existence. 

An end of the scar bulged in its twist and then suddenly exploded, as if unable to contain an influx of whatever it was trying to contain; she shut her eyes again, remembering the uncomfortable light the first time it had done so, and when she looked back, the scar was larger than before, reaching closer to the ground and looking more like a giant smear of paint than a scar.

The dogs dispersed and took up their barking again, but were quickly silenced when a ragged branch of light burst out and caught one – the female – by the paw.

"No! Cixi!" she screamed. She stepped forward, stubbed her orthopaedic shoe against a pebble, and fell unceremoniously into the dirt; the injured toe screamed with sharp pain. Gritting her teeth, she shoved herself back up and hobbled-ran towards the dog. The light, coiled around the joint of the paw, began to drag the Akita with such a force that the other paws, digging into the ground, made deep dragging marks in the dirt.

With a launch of her good foot, she fell upon the trapped dog and held it tightly in her arms. With her weight against Cixi's, she was able to stop the light's pull, but only momentarily.

Cixi whimpered, big pleading eyes boring into hers.

"Shh, I know, girl," she said soothingly. "I'm here. Don't be afraid." Biting down on her lower lip, she pushed even harder against the strange gravity of the green light. Slowly but surely, they slipped out of its grasp. "Just a little more, girl. There, that's a good girl." These reassurances were for her as much as they were for Cixi. She needed her head clear of emotions, or she might panic and lose her grip.

After what seemed like an eternity, both dog and human fell out from the light's hold. Cixi ran under the deck stairs where her male counterpart stood waiting, his tail between his legs. Their human lay panting on the dusty ground, the incredulity of what just happened weakening her knees to jelly.

"Stay," she commanded them. "Stay there, okay? Don't..."

Then she heard the creak of a door above her followed by a rush of wind.  _I didn't close the door properly_ , she realized. A better solution unfolded before her eyes.  _I could get them inside, where it's safer._ "Up," she commanded, using the word they associated with hopping into a car, and the dogs' ears perked at her voice. "Come on, up! Go up!"

When they didn't do anything, she crawled on all fours towards the wooden deck steps and beat her hand on the bottom step. "Come on, go up!"

Without a moment's notice, the two canines leapt onto the steps and ran until they reached the deck. But once there, they stopped, too obedient to enter the house without express permission. She raised herself onto her feet again and yelled out in her native language, "Đi vô! Đi vô nhà!"  _Go, go into the house!_

Regardless of whether they still remembered that command after so long of being unable to come inside, she heard their paws shuffling against the kitchen floor a moment later and breathed a sigh of relief. Now it was her turn. She checked her foot to make sure it was okay and turned one last time to look warily at the strange light in the air.

_Next thing on my list: calling the cops._

She turned back around and began to mount the first step. But before she could put her other foot on it, the light flared intensely from behind her and another crack and crumble of splintering stone vibrated against her back. Perhaps she shouldn't have, but she immediately whirled around to see what had happened. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

The light had expanded again, becoming so big that she could easily wrap herself in it with room to spare. Coiling verdant tendrils snatched out at the surroundings, sucking in twigs and pebbles and whatever else fell prey to the light's touch. She felt a tingle of warmth snake around her ankle and looked down to see a ghastly green tendril tightening its grip on her.

_What the-_

She had not the chance to finish that thought when she was yanked off her feet. Her hands clawed out at the ground, the dirt, the stones, anything she could get ahold of to save herself! But nothing was firm enough and she was only dragged faster and faster towards the strange green abomination. With a sickening lurch, she was hung upside-down from the ankle, and then the warm summer night disappeared around her in a bright flare of green.

A moment of weightlessness followed, dark and somber like that of deep sleep. If anything happened in that moment, she couldn't remember it. Then she received a rude awakening as she was deposited onto a hard, stony ground.

With a groan, she turned herself to the side and slowly sat up. Her eyes blinked haltingly as they attempted to adjust to her new surroundings. At first, she thought she had been dropped in the same spot in the backyard. She quickly realized as she took in the sickly green mist that something else entirely had happened.

She attempted to stand. "Ow," she hissed, and clutched at her left foot. She gave it a moment before rising again, this time more slowly.

 _Where am I?_  she wondered. Nothing but green mist swirled about her, obscuring her vision and teasing her with vague rolling shapes that threatened to come alive, but dissipated before they could do so. Besides the dim light of the mist, everything else was dark. She pursed her lips and took a step forward. The distant sound of a falling rock echoed from ahead and she tensed, wondering if it signaled the presence someone – or something – else.

"Hello?" she called out timidly. "Is...is anyone there?"

For a moment, everything was quiet. Then she heard a scattering of smaller rocks and a steady one-two beat of jogging footsteps. She stood stock-still, trying to gauge whether the sounds were heading for her or simply veering around her.

A distant shape soon became visible through the mist. She watched it carefully a first, thinking it to be an optical illusion. But when the shape continued to hold and traced itself into a man's profile, she knew it was no trick.

Should she call out to him? Was he coming to rescue her? These questions swirled in her mind as tumultuously as the mist before her, all the while the figure was drawing closer and closer. She gathered her courage and took small steps in his direction.

"Hello? Sir?" she called out again.

She could hear his breath now, huffs and puffs of air that came in rhythm with his steps. If he heard her, he did nothing to show it.

"Sir?" she said louder.

Again, he didn't respond. Things were quiet again, save for his breathing and running. She waited a while longer, hoping he would come close enough for her to call out again. But she waited too long and he suddenly burst through the mist, colliding into her. She yelped in surprise and stumbled back a step.

The man drew back and stared at her in shock, his bright blue eyes widening as though he'd just seen a ghost. His mouth made small stuttering noises, but they were nothing comprehensible. He shook himself a second later and resumed running, leaving her behind in the mysterious mists.

"Wait!" she cried. "Where are you going?"

But he never replied. His jog had also accelerated into a full-on run.

Her heart raced as she wondered why he looked so fearful, and why he had been jogging in the first place. He also seemed dressed for the Renaissance Fair, but that was of little consequence in such a strange and eerie place as this.

When the man's footsteps became nothing more than faint echoes, a new sound took up the emptiness. She listened harder and heard what sounded like the scuttling of tiny feet. Not too long after, a big mass of shadow began moving towards her. She drew back a step, unsure of what to make of it. And then she screamed when the first of the shadows came within sight, the light of the mists reflecting off its many beady eyes.

_Giant spiders!_

She turned tail and fled, going as fast as her injured foot would allow. First the green light, then the mist and the spiders; what was happening to her? How was it even possible? She screamed in fear again as a furry leg brush against her calf, and quickened her pace. She refused to look back, for fear of seeing the creatures too close for comfort.

And then she began to tire. A sense of doom overcame her and she knew she would fall prey to these giant spiders within minutes. She cursed herself for having a broken toe at such an inopportune moment and prepared to sink down on her knees so the creatures could take her. Whatever was going to come, she hoped it would come swiftly.

"Here!" a booming voice then called out, and she looked up to see where it had come from.

A woman, shining with a bright white light, stood like a beacon at the top of a stone staircase. She wore a great rectangular headdress and had her hand extended towards the girl–

* * *

 

"So you saw a man and a woman?" the hooded woman interrupted her.

The girl nodded. "The man was gone, and the woman reached out to me...I ran up to her as fast as I could, but then..." She blinked, frowning at the floor as if trying to read the answer from there. "That's all I can remember."

Cassandra, the one with the choppy hair, turned to the hooded woman with an exasperated sigh. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

Leliana paused, giving the girl one last scrutinizing look before nodding at Cassandra and exiting through a door. Another burst of pain throbbed in her head as Cassandra bent down to fiddle with the manacles, the chains clanking against one another in an irritating metallic cacophony. When she was done, the girl's wrists were free to move.

Cassandra grabbed her by the arm and hefted her up. Her feet were stable, albeit a little shaky. The short haired woman aimed a suspicious eye at the orthopaedic shoe, though, and pointed at it. "What is that?"

"It's for my toe," the girl explained. "I...broke it."

Cassandra gave a _tsk_ and bent down again to examine the funny-looking shoe. "Which toe?"

"The – the little one."

"Bandages," Cassandra commanded to the guards in the room. "I also need boots and some clothing."

"Yes, Lady Cassandra."

A short moment later, the items arrived and Cassandra ordered her to take off the orthopaedic shoe. The girl did so hesitantly, wondering what this gruff woman was going to do to her. When the shoe's straps were undone and the left foot was free, Cassandra began to tightly bandage the toes.

The girl winced as the gauze cinched against her pinky toe. "Ow! Please, not so tight!"

But Cassandra ignored her and her toes were soon wrapped in tighter-than-tight bandages, wound so thickly she could almost feel nothing when she placed her left foot down on the floor. Cassandra then tossed her the clothes and boots. "Change into these as fast as you can."

She caught the garments square in the arms, but the boots clattered to the floor next to her. "Are you taking me somewhere?" she asked Cassandra warily.

"Just do it."

Her tone did not sound like one to be trifled with and the girl promptly obeyed. With her back turned to the woman, she stripped off her pajamas and slid herself into a pair of breeches, a thick green tunic, and a glove for her right hand. When she asked Cassandra about the other one, she was told it was intentional. _Okay..._ She wrapped a gray scarf around her neck as a finishing touch, and when finished, felt slightly weighed down by all the clothing.

 _It must be really cold outside,_ she reasoned, _or I wouldn't need all this fabric._

And now the hard part...the boots. She slipped one onto her good foot easily enough but stared in apprehension at the left one, wondering what sort of pain she might subject herself to with such a narrow opening and tight space.

But Cassandra was waiting, and not wishing to incur her ire, the girl carefully enclosed her foot with its corresponding sock before tentatively picking her way through the boot's opening. It was an excruciatingly slow process, made even slower by her fear, and she could hear Cassandra sigh in relief when it was over.

"Finally," the woman muttered, and came over to her to tie her wrists back up, this time with rope. "Now follow me."


	2. Breach in the Sky

It was cold. And by cold, she meant thick, snowy, Colorado-winter-cold. She'd been to Colorado once, in the middle of winter. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the startling brightness of the outside world. The prison had been dimly lit, easier on her head. Out here though, the sky was as white as the snow on the ground, and the brightness was too much for comfort. Her migraine reminded her of its presence and she had to take another deep gulp of air to keep it down in her stomach.

 _But it was summer last time I checked...how did it become winter so quickly? Where_ are _we?_

With teary eyes, the girl blinked and made another attempt to look at her surroundings. Perhaps she could get a clue by finding a sign to read. She wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be another country. Cassandra's accent sounded exotic...Russian, maybe? Or German? The town around them seemed antiquated, constructed with wood and stone like one would see in an illustration of ye olde times. Surrounded by tall, rocky mountains, it was the kind of town one thought of when reading fairy tales or might see in a fantasy movie. But as she was making her survey, her focus turned midway upon a strange formation in the skies – a spiraling pillar of light stretching down from the heavens, glowing with a bright green light she'd grown to despise.

Cassandra noticed her staring at it. "We call it the Breach," she supplied. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"Explosion?" the girl echoed, remembering what Cassandra said about the Conclave. It had been destroyed, and everyone attending it had died. "Are you sure that bombs can do this? I know ISIS is a growing threat, but even I don't think they can pull _that_ off." She finished with a pointed nod at the Breach.

There was silence as the woman narrowed her eyes at her. "It was not a bomb," she said after a while. "Neither was it... _eye-sis_...at least, not that _we_ know of. You, on the other hand..."

She was interrupted when the Breach pulsed in the sky and widened in an explosion of light. A thundering crack split through the air as its energies flared, reverberating through the mountains. In response, the electricity in the girl's left hand burst out again, hissing and crackling with such vehemence that she was forced to her knees.

"Aaagh!" She instinctively hugged her hand closer to her body, as if cradling it tightly would make the pain go away. Of course, it didn't; a thousand little knives dug into her skin and threatened to cut through the very muscle and bone. Every fingertip flared with burning heat and tingled with pinching, prickly static. It hurt so badly she considered asking to get it amputated. Surely a severed limb would feel better in comparison?

Cassandra knelt down beside her, her face grim. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

 _Well, no shit,_ she thought as she heard that the mark was killing her. In fact, if left unchecked, she was afraid the thing might actually consume her...spread its electricity over her entire body...and she quailed at the thought. But upon hearing 'the key to stopping this', she asked, "Stopping what? The Breach?"

The woman nodded. "Your mark might actually close it. Whether that's possible is something we'll discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours."

She did not like the way Cassandra said those last two words. She also failed to see how a mark of electricity on her hand could close, much less stop, a thing the monstrous size of the Breach. How was she so sure she wouldn't be killed in the process? How was she even sure the mark wasn't etched on her palm by her captors in the first place?

But she did not voice these opinions as Cassandra pulled her to her feet. She had not seen it back in the prison, but a ragged scar ran down the length of the woman's cheek and there was a sword tucked in her belt as well as a large shield strapped on her back. Depending on how skilled she was, Cassandra could cut the girl down with little to no effort. She'd thought the inhabitants of wherever-this-was seemed a little...different. A little too obsessed with fantasy cosplaying. She didn't think they'd take it this seriously. Then again, they held her at swordpoint earlier – what _wouldn't_ they do?

Cassandra pushed her into a walk, a firm hand gripping her back as if to lay claim to her. In other words, she was reminding her of her inability to escape. The girl averted her eyes from the older woman's face, more than a little unnerved by its stony expression, but found nothing comforting in the eyes of the townspeople either. As they went through the town, walking down paths too small and undeveloped to really be called streets, and passing by more tents than buildings, the girl saw that everyone who laid eyes on them – or rather, her – twisted their faces into scowls, as if she were some sort of dirty creature come to make their lives worse.

"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra explained. "They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together; now, they are dead."

Could this get any more fantasy-like? It seemed semi-believable at first, what with the Conclave and the Breach in the sky, but then at 'mages' the girl almost let out a laugh. Of course, she stifled that urge with a well placed cough. "Um, look," she began, "you can tell the director to reveal the cameras now. This must've been fun, but I'd like to go home."

Cassandra glared at her. "Director? Cameras? What are you – are you feeling all right?"

 _I have a migraine, my body's sore, and my toe might get worse even though I can't feel it._ _No, I feel horrible, but,_ "I'm still sane, if that's what you mean."

"What is your point?"

"You...you know! This is all staged! You're an actress, these people are actors, and we're someplace in the Swiss Alps with special effects for some kind of reality show." When Cassandra didn't say anything, she added, "If you keep me here any longer with my injuries, I could sue your filming company for kidnapping charges." She wasn't sure if that was accurate according to the law, but if it could send the message across, she was willing to use it.

The grip on her back tightened and the look on Cassandra's face darkened. "The people's suffering is real. The Breach and rifts are real. The explosion at the Conclave was real. All that we've been through, and you have the gall to undermine it as _fake_?"

The girl winced when her left foot stubbed against a stone. Cassandra's pace had quickened, forcing her feet to do the same. "But how can this be real? I mean, mages...magic doesn't exist. You know that...right?"

They stopped at a gate on the edge of the town. Upon their arrival, a pair of soldiers pushed it open to reveal a stone bridge spanning a rocky gorge. Cassandra was silent as she pushed her prisoner onto this bridge, but after taking a few steps forward, she let go of her. The woman slid out a dagger that'd been sheathed from behind and poised the blade in the middle of the girl's ropes. The girl watched it warily, half-afraid the weapon would be plunged into her belly. When Cassandra jerked it a second later, she gave a start, but looked down to see her wrists free and the cut ropes lying at her feet.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more." Cassandra tucked the dagger back into its sheath and turned around to continue walking. "Come. It is not far."

The girl stood there, blinking in surprise before starting after the stern woman. "Where are you taking me?" she asked apprehensively. "And aren't you afraid I might run away?"

"Are you running away right now?" Cassandra asked back, and the girl thought she could hear a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Lost in an unfamiliar land, deep in the middle of winter, and with an injured toe to boot; no, she realized, she could not, and would not run away. She'd be dead within the week out there in the snowy wilderness. That was if Cassandra didn't catch her first. The bandages were effective padding, but not enough for a run. Cassandra looked athletic, too. She really didn't stand a chance on her own.

"So...where are we going?" she repeated, ignoring the previous question altogether.

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach," the woman replied, and that was all she cared to say on the subject.

The girl bit down on her lower lip, wondering if she should ask for clarification, but Cassandra didn't seem the type to elaborate on things. She was also probably still pissed by the accusation earlier. The girl didn't think she wanted to test that anger again.

So she shut her mouth as she followed Cassandra across the bridge. There were more people farther down and she kept her eyes downcast in response. Though she knew she'd done nothing wrong, she didn't like being stared at so angrily. It scared her. This time, however, no one spared her a second glance. She soon knew why.

Wounded people. Dead people. Three soldiers reclined against the stone railing, nursing their bloody injuries. Another soldier was curled on the ground in a fetal position, rocking back and forth with an unstable look on his face. A person in red and white robes knelt praying over six canvas covered bundles...bundles in the eerie shape of the human body. The girl's foot then stepped on something soft and firm, like a limb, and she screamed in horror when she saw her boot touching the arm of a bloody corpse. Lifeless eyes stared up at her, as if in reproach of her clumsiness.

Cassandra whirled around with an annoyed expression on her face. "Watch your step," she snapped, and turned back to continue walking.

The girl sped after her with limping hops before resuming her previous slow pace. She hung closer to the woman now, as if in doing so she could avoid more encounters with the dead.

Regardless, they were everywhere. Five more bundles lay motionless to the left. A woman with what looked like a clipboard stood writing over – ten? _Eleven_? – bundles to the right. Another trio of wounded soldiers lay groaning on the ground, and it was to her distaste that she found the sight of them refreshing. Their injuries looked painful, but at least they were alive. Yet perhaps she spoke too soon, for she saw more canvas wrapped corpses stacked on a wagon to the right...and three more uncovered corpses to the left.

They had approached the next gate when the girl asked Cassandra to stop.

"What is it now?" the woman asked irritably, and jumped back in time to prevent the first wave of vomit from splashing on her boots. "Maker's breath!" she hissed.

It was just too much. The corpses, the migraine, the nausea lying dormant in her stomach...it was all awakened when one thought led to another, and she began to smell – or at least thought she smelled – the stink of carrion. Highly improbable what with the cold temperature, but her imagination ran wild nonetheless.

The girl shivered and hugged her stomach. She would have loved to sink to the ground, but that meant touching the same stones a dead body might have been on. So instead, she kept to her feet, even though her knees clattered like rickety beams.

"Are you quite finished?" Cassandra asked when no more vomit was forthcoming.

The girl ran a hand through her hair, groaning in disgust when she saw a chunk of vomit nestled in the black strands closest to her face. "Yeah," she rasped. "Is there anything I can wipe off with?"

"You can use your sleeve, or the snow," Cassandra suggested with a shrug. "We don't have much to spare you at the moment." Upon seeing the disgusted look spread on the girl's face, she asked, "Is this your first time seeing a corpse?"

The girl cringed. "Yes."

Cassandra sighed, as if she couldn't be bothered to deal with this latest obstacle. She shut her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered something under her breath before turning back to the girl. "Prepare yourself. There are more up ahead."

She supposed she should be lucky the woman made no snide remarks about fake corpses and staged deaths. That was the last thing the girl wanted on her nerves, even though she would have loved for it to be otherwise.

"Open the gate!" Cassandra yelled to the soldiers, who, the girl realized, had been audience to the vomiting spectacle. "We are headed into the valley!"

They pushed open the great wooden doors and watched with curiosity as Cassandra led the trembling girl out onto a dirt path. They didn't whisper, standing apart from each other as they did, but she had no doubt they would whisper once she and Cassandra were gone.

The gate closed behind them while they made their way up the path. It led up a slight incline, rounding the edge of a hill. Barricades of spiky wood lay in strategic positions along the sides, and one of them was manned by two soldiers brandishing their swords, watching the hilltop for any sign of danger. After passing that barricade, Cassandra allowed the girl a moment of repose to scoop up some snow and wipe her face and hair.

Harried footsteps scuffled the dirt in front of them and the girl looked up mid-wipe to see three men running down the hill. "Maker, it's the end of the world!" one of them yelled as they ran by. She knew she shouldn't have, but she stared wide-eyed after their quickly disappearing forms.

"Pay them no heed," Cassandra told her, dismissing the men with a wave.

The girl said nothing and rose to her feet.

They continued on their way and passed by two more soldiers using an overturned wagon as a barricade. Directly to the right, a corpse lay uncovered in the snow. The girl didn't know whether this was her twelfth or twentieth one today; she'd seen too many on the bridge to keep track. This corpse was different, though. It was dressed in robes etched with strange engravings, unlike the others, which had been armored or in tunics and breeches.

"A mage," Cassandra supplied.

 _Mage._ The word still didn't sound serious to her, but its ridiculousness was lessened by what she'd seen. That didn't make it seem more real, but everything was definitely grimmer than before.

Two more corpses lay on either side of the path. They preceded a burning wagon, and another, and then – her stomach lurched again – a burning body. This time she could clearly smell the smoking meat. _It smells like pork_ , she thought, and fought to keep the nausea back down. She found that shutting her eyes tight and imagining a barbecue party helped, although she wanted no piece of the food. _This'll keep me off of meat for a_ long _time_.

Cassandra noticed her discomfort (and her closed eyes) and led her by the arm up the hill. "They're gone," she said, and when the girl opened her eyes again, she saw that the woman was right. She could still smell the smoke behind them, though...charred wood mixed with burning flesh...she spit into the snow as the sour taste of bile rose into her throat and gently eased out of Cassandra's grip.

"I'm fine," she assured the woman. "I just...I just need to not think about it."

"Fair enough."

Crashing rocks alerted her to the Breach and she whirled around to see thick green meteors fall from the sky. As she feared, the Breach pulsed again and her left hand sizzled with heat. It came on more strongly this time, forcing her not only to her knees but down onto her back. Pulse after pulse of piercing pain swept through the nerves, making even the simple act of twitching her finger a feat of impossibility.

 _Oh my god, when will it stop?_ Tears streamed down her face as she cried out in pure agony. _Someone, make it stop! It hurts so much!_

Like a patient nanny, Cassandra bent over her and helped her up. Her hands were actually gentle this time, and when the girl was on her feet again, she even placed steadying hands on her shoulders.

"The pulses are coming faster now," Cassandra remarked. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear...the more demons we face." She watched the green flares dance, waiting until they subsided, and then gave the girl an encouraging pat on the shoulder before continuing to lead the way.

Though the electricity was gone, the girl's left hand ached with the remnants of the last flare. She wiped at her eyes and nursed it carefully, unable to bring herself to look at the mark. In fact, she hadn't yet laid eyes on it in full. She was too scared of what she would see, and she'd been frightened enough on this walk already.

"How am I still alive?" she wondered aloud, her voice sore from crying out. She tried to explain this phenomena with what little scientific and medical knowledge she had, but couldn't arrive at an answer that seemed reasonable; at least, not without her being dead. Or horribly maimed.

"They said you...stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious," Cassandra began. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knew who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

The girl was confused at first on how those things correlated with one another: the rift, the woman, the valley. Then she realized Cassandra was talking about the explosion and was attributing her survival to the woman in the rift. Not the answer she expected...and not even one that made things the tiniest bit clearer. She pursed her lips, remembering the last time she doubted reality out loud, and remained silent.

The winter wind howled through the air, driving drifts of snow up against her boots. She watched the white flurries dance on the ground, thinking of how white and cloud-like they seemed. She sighed as she lost herself in their twirls, tracing the floating movements with her weary eyes. It took her mind off the pain and calmed her down, somewhat.

"What is your name?" Cassandra suddenly asked.

The girl jolted. "You want to know my name?" she sputtered.

"I do," Cassandra reaffirmed. Then her eyes narrowed. "Unless you're hiding something..."

She quickly shook her head. "N-no! I was just – I was just surprised. You didn't seem like...like you wanted to know..." But she was faced with another predicament as she tried to think of what to say. She had nothing to hide, but her name was rather complex. Should she give her full name? She'd have to explain how to pronounce it properly, though. That might take too long. Should she give her nickname? It was easier to say, but might come across as childish. She didn't have the luxury of taking long to decide, though, for every passing second would be interpreted as hesitance. So she blurted out, "Ahnnie. My name is Ahnnie."

" _Aw-nee_?" Cassandra frowned.

 _I knew it,_ Ahnnie thought. _She thinks it's childish._ With a sigh, she began to stammer, "It's actually a nickname. My, um, my real name, because I'm Asian, you know, is Diễm Anh."

" _Yee-ah...Yee-ahm..._ "

Ahnnie chuckled nervously as Cassandra tried to imitate the up-and-down intonation on the first part of her name. "Yeah, so, I use my nickname more. I mean, you could just call me Anh...but I prefer Ahnnie. See, my friends made it up for me in the fourth grade. People always misspelled my name as A-h-n instead of A-n-h...so they just stuck an 'ee' to the end of it, and it became...Ahnnie."

Rather than clearing up any doubt, her explanation only seemed to confuse Cassandra further.

"Just call me Ahnnie," she said at last, and the conversation ended there.

They soon came to a second bridge. It was smaller than the first and arched over a frozen river. Ahnnie was relieved to see that no dead lay upon its stones; there were soldiers up ahead who were very much alive and free of injuries. This bridge was also clear of rubble, so compared to what she'd seen earlier, crossing it was going to be like a walk in the park.

And then a meteor struck.

It landed squarely on the group of soldiers, sending them flying in a blast of brilliant emerald light. Ahnnie shielded her eyes and coughed as dust rose up around her. Then the bridge began to shake, and the stones beneath her feet gave away. In a maddening tumble, she and Cassandra fell through the crumbling stones, screaming as they bumped and rolled tumultuously down onto the ice.

Ahnnie in particular landed with a thud on her back. _Ooogh..._ She grimaced as pain lanced through her spine. Her head felt even worse, and she had to lie there a moment to let the haze pass before rolling onto her stomach. When she looked up, she was amazed to see Cassandra already back on her feet, poised and alert. _That woman must be made of steel!_ How else could she rebound so quickly?

Another meteor burst out from the Breach and hit the ice in front of them. Ahnnie closed her eyes again, feeling the impact vibrate through the ice. When it settled a moment later, she opened her eyes a crack and saw something grow out of the spot where the meteor had hit.

Her eyes widened when it became a monster.

"What – What the hell is that?" she yelled. It was a sickly brown color and as big as a man, perhaps even bigger, roughly six to seven feet tall. Its body was angular and torpedo-shaped, and its shoulders were thickened as though hunchbacked. Its arms were spindly in comparison, a garish mockery of humanoid limbs. It had no legs as far as she could tell, or its legs were covered by the robe-like bottom it was wearing if that wasn't an extension of its own skin.

The monster reared its head and let out a screeching, ear-splitting shriek. Ahnnie felt that shriek deep in her chest and froze in place like a frightened animal.

Cassandra felt it too, but took it as a challenge rather than a reason to cower. "Stay behind me!" she commanded, and with her sword in one hand and her shield in the other, she ran up to face the monster.

 _Don't leave me here!_ Ahnnie wanted to scream, but her mouth was frozen in a wide 'O'. She couldn't summon the courage to blink, much less move.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, the ice in front of her cracked and hissed. She looked at the spot and saw the ice bubbling darkly, followed by a glowing green energy. _No._ The cracking intensified and the green energy flared. _No!_ She gripped the ice in terror as the energy ruptured in a great pillar of green light, and another brown monster just like the first one burst through.

This second monster spared no time getting down to business, roaring at her and slashing at her face with a spindly claw. She yelped and rolled away; shards of ice flew past her vision as the monster missed its mark. It roared again and swiped after her, tearing at the edge of her scarf. She scrambled to her knees and scuttled away as fast as she could, but its claws came in close behind her every single time.

"Help! Someone help me!" Ahnnie screamed, but there was no one to hear her plea. Cassandra was busy fighting the first monster, the soldiers on the bridge were dead, and there was not another soul around for miles; unless a bolt of lightning came down from the sky to strike the monster where it stood, no one would come to her aid.

No one, except for herself.

She swerved again as the monster made another attack, but tumbled to the ground and found herself vulnerable on her back, the deadly monster hovering over her. Its next strike would surely take her, ripping through clothes and deep into skin, spilling her blood and guts onto the ice. In a wild frenzy, her hands grabbed out at anything that could save her – anything that could delay the inevitable – and just as the monster bore down on her again, she grabbed hold of a wooden circle and hefted it over her body.

 _Crack!_ The monster's claws hit the wood, splintering its surface. It took Ahnnie a moment to register that she was safe, thanks to the wood. _No, it's a shield_ , she realized when she saw a metallic handle, and she grasped it awkwardly as she mobilized herself to prepare for the next strike. _Crack!_ The monster hit again, the impact of its strike jarring her uncomfortably, but once again she was safe. She backed herself against a pile of rubble to try and regain her footing.

As she did so, she spied a sword from the corner of her eye and thought _jackpot_. Now if only she could get closer to it. She let the shield take another hit from the monster and slowly edged her bottom towards the sword. Just a little more. _Crack!_ This time the monster lunged at her shield with the force of its weight on its elbow. She winced as the impact shoved her roughly against the broken stones, but her free hand groped about the ice in search of the sword regardless.

 _Almost...almost!_ Her gloved fingers clawed at the pommel, bumping against the metal.

The monster drew back in preparation for another strike.

 _Please! Come on!_ She stretched her arm as far as it could go. Her muscles screamed with the exertion, but she fought against it.

The monster lunged down at her.

Her fingers scrabbled faster against the ice and touched the leather wrapping of the handle.

The monster flared its claws and rent the air with another deafening shriek.

Her fingers finally found purchase on the grip of the sword and she swung it upwards. In a desperate motion, she threw the shield aside to hold up the heavy weapon in two hands. The monster closed in on her and she screamed as it fell...

...impaling itself against the blade.

Black blood splattered all over her clothes, some even landing on her face, one drop threatening to spill into her mouth. The monster screamed, writhed, and then drop dead before her eyes. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she stared into its deadly maw, frozen into a perpetual scream. It was dead. She had killed it. _She_ killed a monster!

"Ah...ahaha...ahahaha!" Relief and panic mixed in the pit of her stomach, a roiling battleground of ticklish feeling, and she tossed her head back to let out a burst of maniacal laughter. She found no hilarity in the situation, but she couldn't help herself. Her arms shook in rhythm with her mirth, and with the heavy monster still stuck on the blade, her hands threatened to let go of the sword and let the dead thing tumble on top of her.

She was relieved of that problem when the monster's body started dissipating into dust, blown away by the howling wind. _Is it a demon?_ she wondered, remembering what Cassandra said about the rifts. And yet she still laughed at the empty blade, so shocked was she at what just happened.

Eventually she ran out of wind for her laughs, and she slowly eased back into sanity. With a gentle lowering of her sword, she rose to her feet. The ice, slick with the monster's blood, threatened to make her slip on her first step. She eased away from the liquid and looked around for Cassandra. The woman was battling a third monster that had appeared while Ahnnie had been struggling with the second one, the first monster already a spot of black blood on the ice. She contemplated going over to help, but then Cassandra cut down the monster with an adept blow and the thing tumbled lifelessly onto the ice. A moment later, it, too, faded into nothing but dust.

Ahnnie tensed and raised her sword in trembling hands as she scanned the length of the frozen river, half expecting another creature to show up out of nowhere. When everything was still, she relaxed her position and pointed the sword downwards.

Cassandra, on the other hand, kept her sword up and stormed over to her. Ahnnie thought at first that she was zeroing in something behind her and whirled around to face it, but when Cassandra got closer, she realized that the sword was up and pointed at _her_.

"Drop your weapon. _Now,_ " the woman barked.

Ahnnie's fingers released the sword and the weapon clattered onto the ice. "B-but what if there are more?" she protested. "How am I supposed to protect myself?"

"You won't need to."

"How do you know that?"

Cassandra paused. Then she sighed in defeat. "You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless. Your life is threatened enough as it is."

Ahnnie gulped and watched her carefully. "So...I can have the sword?"

Cassandra sheathed her weapon and straightened her stance. "Yes, you may."

The girl sighed in relief and picked up the sword again. It was ungainly in her hands, though, heavy and burdensome on the wrists. Cassandra noticed the clumsy way she held it and added, "Just listen to what I tell you to do and you should be fine. And here, wear this..." She plucked a helmet from a dead soldier who'd been squished beneath the stones and plopped it over Ahnnie's head. "Maker knows what we will face."

The girl shivered when the cold metal touched her head, but brushed the stray hair out of her face when she saw no other alternative. Whatever protection she could find, it was best to use it...even if it came from a dead person. As she looked down at the unfortunate soul whose helmet she now wore, she asked, "Maybe the soldiers can help us? Aren't there more up ahead?"

The answer that Cassandra gave her filled her with dread. "No. They are all at the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's established that Ahnnie is of Southeast Asian descent, and there are no similar people in Thedas: there will be remarks made from other characters about her appearance that *might* come across as offensive to some. But know that I am simply writing what I think would be accurate reactions from a group of people who have never seen an East-ish Asian before.


	3. Solas and Varric

The brown monsters were called shades, and just as Ahnnie suspected, they were demons that had come through the rifts. What she didn't expect was that they were only one of many.

"So there are different _kinds_ of demons?" the girl asked bewilderingly.

Cassandra nodded. "There are demons, and then there are demonic possessions. Demons have different attributes based on the emotions they feed off of, such pride, sloth, terror. You will usually see them in their true form. Demonic possessions are abominations created when a demon takes possession of a mage or a corpse. Some have even been known to possess trees."

"What about the shades?"

"The shades are not entirely clear...some say they are the true form of a demon appearing out of the Fade without a host. Others believe they are the spirits of the dead returned to the mortal world." She shrugged. "Whatever they are, it only matters that they are cut down as swiftly as possible."

Ahnnie nodded, taking a moment to digest the information. "What's the Fade?" she next asked.

"It is a realm where spirits and demons reside, separated from the mortal world by the Veil."

"What's the Veil?"

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra hissed. "So many questions! Do you truly not know what the Fade and Veil are?"

"No...that is, I truly _don't_ know what they are."

"So you are hearing of them for the first time?"

"Well, yes..." That much was obvious if she was asking about them.

Cassandra furrowed her brows at the girl as if she were an oddity. At last, she said, "The Veil is a barrier between the Fade and the mortal world. The rifts and the Breach are tears in the Veil that demons can pass through; they are not easily let out otherwise." She let this sink in before asking, "Any more questions?"

Ahnnie shook her head.

"Good."

They walked some more in silence, boots crunching on the snow and frozen dirt. After the encounter on the river, they had walked up the ice back onto solid ground as an alternative to the bridge. The path then continued on a high bank along the river's course, so that it was visible alongside them as they went. Ahnnie's eyes occasionally flitted from the path to the ice, watching for the slightest sign of another demon.

But more often than not, it was the dead they encountered on the trail. More of these corpses were mages, as Ahnnie saw from their robes, although they were still outnumbered by the soldiers. Cassandra stooped down several times to unbuckle armor from dead soldiers and tie it onto Ahnnie when she thought a certain piece would fit the girl. When she was finished, Ahnnie wore a breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves in addition to her helmet.

It felt funny and awkward to move underneath the metal at first. Then Ahnnie soon grew used to it, although she didn't move as smoothly as Cassandra did in her armor. She suspected it was because the woman was armed in mostly leather, which was more flexible than metal. Another worry was added to her list when she considered that metal was conductive and her left hand might flare again.

She supposed she was lucky, then, that the cursed hand was currently wrapped around the hilt of her sword. It was, of course, inconvenient to be carrying a heavy sword in both hands all the time. After the first few minutes, her arms started to tire and she had to invent new ways of holding or shifting the sword so that its weight did not bother her as much. Cassandra had not yet looted a sword belt though, and neither did Ahnnie think she wanted her to. Or if she did, then she would hold her left hand as far away from her body as possible.

"How are you feeling?" Cassandra asked her a moment later.

Ahnnie perked up at this question of concern. She made a mental evaluation of herself and found that her aches and pains had been kept at bay in order to focus on her survival. But when she thought of them again, they crept back up in slow amounts. She backed out of those thoughts as quickly as possible and said, "Oh, I'm fine...why do you ask?"

The woman jerked her head in the direction of the river. "There are shades up ahead."

She looked to where Cassandra indicated and saw two of those demons sliding around on the ice. They moved in a peculiar manner, using their arms as a propelling force while their feet – well, she wasn't sure if they were feet or just a big block of flesh, but she called them 'feet' anyway – slid with the momentum.

 _It's like they're swimming,_ she observed as she saw one shade stretch its arms to the front before waving them aside in a tense, sweeping motion, as though to push itself through water. _What's it called...frog stroke? Breaststroke?_

She found herself amused despite knowing how deadly these creatures could be. And then remembering that deadliness, she scanned the path ahead to see if there was any way they could skirt around the shades. Perhaps if they stuck to the far side and were quiet, then the demons wouldn't notice them? But then she saw why Cassandra asked her if she was well enough, for the path soon dipped in a downward decline that led straight onto the frozen river. Tall rocks walled them in so that there were no alternative paths; running into the shades was inevitable.

Ahnnie gulped. "Okay," she said with a shaky exhalation and gestured weakly at the demons with a hand. "So...um..."

Cassandra stood in front of her, blocking her view of the demons. "Listen carefully. The sword you are holding – it is not well-suited for your body frame, but you can still use it effectively, if you heed my words."

"I'm listening," she nodded.

Cassandra then took hold of the sword, relieving her of its weight. "You see this?" She tapped a gloved finger lightly on the sword's point. "It is a straight blade, meant for stabbing. Mostly quick, thrusting motions. Do _not_ make the mistake of slashing with the edge." She backed away and made a mock swing with the sword, in which the enemy would have been hit by the edge of the blade. "It will not be effective. You must slice with the tip, instead." She did the same thing, only this time it was the tip of the blade that struck the invisible enemy.

"Then a curved blade is better for slashing," Ahnnie inferred, "and should not be thrusted?" She was thinking of the Japanese katana in particular, or the Arabian scimitar. Now that Cassandra mentioned it, she saw the sense in the way that blades were used in relation to their shape.

"Correct. And when you fight, draw your power from your shoulders." Cassandra straightened and rolled a shoulder as an example. "This is where the bulk of your strength will come from, especially if your wrists cannot take the weight."

 _Thrusting and slicing motions; no slashing, and power from the shoulders,_ Ahnnie repeated in her mind as she took back the sword. "Got it."

Cassandra reached over again to readjust the placement of the girl's fingers, then nodded and pat her on the shoulder. Without another word, she led the way down the path and Ahnnie followed her like an obedient pup.

The girl's heart skipped a beat as they left the safety of the ground above and traded it for the dangers of the frozen river below. As they stepped onto the ice, Cassandra yelled out another piece of advice. "If we flank them, we may gain an advantage!"

At the sound of her voice, the shades whirled around and pushed themselves towards the humans.

 _Flank...advantage..._ For a split second, Ahnnie panicked as she forgot what the word 'flank' meant. Then she saw Cassandra heading up towards the side of a demon, and rushed to do the same with the other one. But she was slower because of her foot and cursed herself when she thought the second demon might gang up on Cassandra. Luckily (or not so luckily), it caught sight of her and oh-so-considerately propelled itself forward, saving her the distance.

Ahnnie stopped and stood her ground, more out of fear than courage. The monster came closer and as it neared, it let out that piercing shriek that made her want to quake in her very boots. _Thrust, slice, shoulders –_ the words played over and over in her mind like a mantra. As long as she knew these words, she assured herself that she would be safe.

And then the shade struck out with its trademark claw swipe. Ahnnie yelped and shielded herself with the sword. The claws rang on the metal and sent a small shower of sparks flying in the air.

She was pretty sure she'd just violated one of Cassandra's rules somehow. To make up for it, she pulled the sword back and thought of doing one of the tip-slices, but then another claw came in quickly after the first and she instinctively blocked it with the sword. Before she could do anything else, the monster struck again, and again, and again.

 _It's too fast!_ She grit her teeth as her feet began to slide. Cassandra, on the other hand, was hacking and slashing freely at her shade. _How does she do it?_ The only explanation Ahnnie could find was that she hadn't let the demon make the first blow. _But then how am I ever going to get a hit?_

She had her answer when one of the demon's strikes went a little overhanded and it cut its palm against the tip of her blade. It shrieked in what looked like pain, jerking back and holding its injured claw aloft. She scrambled to take advantage of this opening and swung the sword like a baseball bat; the blade's tip sliced against the monster's torso. Encouraged, she drew back her arms for another swing, but her wrists pivoted too slowly and the shade's good hand clawed her on the edge of her shoulder. Her breath caught when she saw the claws tear through cloth, but they had mostly struck the pauldron.

Ahnnie drew back a few steps and checked her shoulder. _It's just the cloth,_ she sighed in relief when she saw no blood and felt no pain. _Okay, now back to the –_ but she had committed the fatal battlefield mistake of being too preoccupied with trivialities, and the shade advanced on her. She did not notice until almost too late. With a startled cry, she raised her sword to block another swipe and felt the impact of a second one knock her from the side. This one, now, cut through skin. Her breastplate had taken half the blow, so that three half-finished slash marks were etched onto her ribs.

She hissed in pain and clutched her side in one hand. The sword lay useless in the uncultured grip of her other hand.

"Ignore it! Swing!" Cassandra commanded her as she finished cutting the first shade down.

Ahnnie reluctantly left her wound alone and held the sword in two hands again. But when she swung, she had only gone halfway until the pain in her side made her stop and slide to the ground.

Just in time, Cassandra came up from behind the monster and slashed at it viciously. The shade roared, turning around to face her instead. "Get back up!" she yelled to Ahnnie. "I have its attention! Use this chance to strike from behind!"

 _But it hurts!_ she wanted to protest. She knew that answer wouldn't sit well with Cassandra, though. And then Ahnnie thought of what might happen if it was the other way around, if _Cassandra_ was killed by the monster, and she paled as she realized that meant she would be left alone with it and whatever else was out there.

So she quickly got up to her feet and did her best to pull through the pain. _If I don't do this, I'll be left alone to fend for myself,_ she mentally warned, and the thought – even though it might not come true – effectively tricked her into the sort of panic that had saved her life earlier.

" _Hah!_ " Ahnnie grunted as she sliced at the monster. The shade screamed and tried to turn to face her, but then Cassandra hacked at it again and it turned back to her.

"Good! Keep going!" Cassandra encouraged her.

Ahnnie grit her teeth against the pain and made another laborious swing. The monster turned to her again, and when Cassandra hacked at it, it found itself stuck between two difficult choices. Back and forth this went, a macabre game where they each took turns injuring the trapped shade. 

"Now thrust," was the next command, and Ahnnie heaved with all her strength to plunge her blade deep into the creature's middle.

It shrieked and writhed, jarring her grip on the blade in its death throes, and then sank motionlessly to the ground. It forced her sword down as it fell and Ahnnie knelt along with the movement; then, when it was still, she pulled at the sword and yanked it out of the dead creature.

Cassandra watched as the girl panted for breath and held her injured side again. "You did well," she said, "although you were too open the first time."

Ahnnie smiled dryly _._ If Cassandra was being nice, she was too obvious about it.

"You must watch for openings," Cassandra went on. "Think as you move: is it going to hit here? Will it open up its side? Always be engaged. You cannot pull back to strategize or contemplate for any length of time, because you may fall dead before the second even finishes."

"Easier said than done," the girl sighed as she remembered how fast the creature had struck. The only thoughts she had in her head were in concern for her own safety. How was it possible to squeeze in any strategies? She'd tried that, got distracted, and failed horribly.

Cassandra came up to her and inspected her side. The green of the tunic was soaked in dark blood. She carefully pried her fingers around the torn cloth to inspect the wound. "It is not too deep," she evaluated. "Once we reach the forward camp, you can get it patched up. In the meantime, stay sharp and stick close to me. Keep your glove off the wound," she added when the girl moved to hold it again. "You don't want it to become slippery with blood; it will ruin your grip."

They walked down the ice and were met with another shade. Ahnnie groaned inwardly upon seeing it, but it was only one and Cassandra decided to take it on herself. So Ahnnie stood back and watched as the woman fell upon the demon with her trademark untiring ferocity - _hack, slash, slice, stab_ – but things became different when a rush of green energy blasted over Cassandra and made her falter.

Cassandra cursed and cast about for the source of the disturbance in addition to keeping up the fight. "Up on that hill," she pointed out. "It attacks from a distance!"

Ahnnie immediately looked to where Cassandra pointed. There on that snowy hill, a green ghost floated above them, firing similarly-hued wispy balls at the action below.

"Take it down," Cassandra added as she dodged its attack.

"Alone?" Ahnnie yelled back, flabbergasted.

"It is a lesser wraith. They are weak and their magic only lasts a few seconds, but it would be best to take them out as soon as possible. If that one fires too much at me, we will soon be at a disadvantage."

Ahnnie nodded and reluctantly moved away from Cassandra. She went up the bank and jogged up a set of stairs etched into the ground that led to the wraith. It fired green balls her way as she advanced, but she ducked from a greater part of them. Still, whenever she was hit she felt a cold rush of air before momentarily faltering with her footing and grip on the blade. It was at such moments that she wished she had a shield, but there was no more complaining to be done when she finally reached it.

 _Wait...it's not solid,_ she realized. _How am I supposed to take it down?_

Cassandra was too occupied for her to ask the question though, and the wraith was forming another green ball in its hands. In a panic, the girl struck out at the wraith with a slash.

As she expected, the sword fell directly through it. It wasn't unaffected, however; it dropped its arms to its sides and drifted back, as if it had felt the impact. Bolstered by this observation, Ahnnie slashed again, and for once she was the one assaulting with the most speed. The wound in her side prevented her from swinging too widely, but that was enough to face this enemy. After a few such slashes, however ungainly, the wraith dispersed in a puff of green smoke.

_Well, that was easy!_

Below her, Cassandra had finished off the shade and was making her way up the hill. As she came close, she looked out at the snow and river ahead of them. "We still have some ways to go," she murmured. And then she saw Ahnnie. "I see you've finished off the wraith."

"Yeah, it wasn't too difficult." Then she paused. "It's not going to...come back, is it?" For the girl was suddenly afraid that this was one of those too-good-to-be-true moments.

"No. It really is that weak."

"So it's dead, right?" The thing didn't exactly 'die' the way normal things did, after all.

Cassandra shrugged. "I don't know. But it's gone, which is just as good. Now come along – we cannot waste any more time." She quickly crested the hill and went down the steps on the other side. Ahnnie followed, sword pointed downwards.

The path led them back down onto another stretch of frozen river. Ahnnie had begun to associate walking on the ice with encountering demons by now, but it was not so this time. Their trek went largely unmolested, the only things worthy of note being the occasional corpse sprawled on the ice or the howls of a faraway animal. The girl kept a tense grip on the sword regardless, remembering what Cassandra told her _._ She could easily infer from that that it was necessary to stay on the alert. Even the slightest stray thought might throw her off-guard. If another demon struck out now, she wanted to be prepared. She didn't want another wound like the one on her side...or something worse.

A steep staircase flanked by short stone walls greeted them after moments of silent walking. Ahnnie hoped that this was where they were going to go and was happy to see Cassandra turn in its direction. She was not so happy when she saw that the stairs stretched for a long, long way up. In consequence, her sword was suddenly made more cumbersome as they mounted the steps.

So she was surprised when Cassandra offered to hold it. "You need to keep your strength," she explained. "We're getting close to the rift; you can hear the fighting."

Ahnnie paused for a moment and indeed heard the din of clashing metal amidst the wind. A few steps later, the sounds of yelling men echoed along. An anxious feeling welled in her stomach as she wondered what was going on. "Who's fighting?"

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

She assumed from this answer that it was a group of soldiers. _Ah, so this is where they're fighting,_ she thought, remembering that the soldiers were either doing that or were at the forward camp. And then she slowly pieced two-and-two together... _a rift is close by, and the soldiers are fighting. It sounds like there are quite a few of them, too. So there must be even_ more _demons up ahead!_

When they reached the top of the stairs, Cassandra handed the sword back to her. She accepted it wordlessly and they advanced along the path. Directly to their right, a bridge with burning rubble lay awash in flames. They went by it, though, as the sound of fighting came from directly up ahead. The path ended at a short stone wall, beyond which lay the rubble of what was once an impressive stone building. Ahnnie saw a group of men fighting some shades within its broken confines and a dark green crystal floating over them. For that was what it looked like to her: a crystal.

She knew it was linked to her mark when she not only saw it surrounded by a familiar green miasma, but felt her left hand vibrate. She clenched that hand tighter, afraid of another flaring episode, but it only vibrated this time in a silent hum.

 _So this is a rift,_ she thought, looking back up at the crystal. _How do I 'close' it?_

Cassandra jumped down the wall and ran to join the fighting. Ahnnie sat her bottom on the wall and slid down carefully instead. Once on the ground, she proceeded to walk over the rubble, taking stock of the situation while she had the chance. The men were moving too much for her to count, but it looked like they were fighting three shades. _Not as many demons as I thought,_ and she felt some relief. _Perhaps they destroyed the others while we were coming here?_

Ahnnie held her sword up as she stalked behind a broken wall. On the other side, Cassandra was fighting a shade. When the demon pushed its back into her line of vision, she straightened up and made a forceful swing. The blade felt out of control in her rolling wrists, but a ragged line of black ripped across the shade's skin regardless and it roared angrily.

Cassandra took advantage of the opening to make a deep cut of her own. "Good thinking," she told the girl. "It is always advantageous to strike from behind."

Ahnnie made another such swing but of a lesser span, finding that if she moved moderately, the pain in her side would not be unnecessarily stretched and her wrists wouldn't have to work half as hard. "I was actually scared," she admitted.

"But you used strategy," Cassandra pointed out as she finished off the monster, and the girl supposed that that was true. Still, it was strategy in a moment of peace, hardly the mid-combat thinking that Cassandra seemed to possess.

That being done, Cassandra moved off to help one of the men. Ahnnie followed close behind and was astonished at first to see how short this man was. She would have mistaken him for a child if not for his thick frame. And he was reckless, taking on a shade at such close quarters with what looked like little to no armor and only a crossbow.

But before she could reach him, a hand pulled on her left wrist and dragged her to the side. She dropped her sword in surprise, almost stumbling over a stray stone. When she righted herself, she turned to stare at the man who had handled her so roughly.

The first thing she noticed were his pointed ears.

"Quickly, before more come through!" he cried, and raised her hand towards the rift.

"What–" But she was cut off when her left hand burst with such a light that it almost blinded her. She screamed for the umpteenth time that day, not so much in pain this time as with incredulity.

A beam of green energy flowed from the mark in her hand to the center of the rift. It hurt, yes, but what got to her the most was the strange pulling sensation. It was as if the center of her palm and whatever was within it was being sucked out by the beam. She tried to yank against the pointy-eared man's grip, sure that she would lose her hand in this strange, science-defying feat, but he held firm and would not let her go.

The rift morphed as the beam fed into it, losing its jagged edge and falling into itself until it was an amorphous blob. Then the blob began to separate, stretching out like putty, and green light danced crazily all around them. The more it intensified, the more unstable the rift seemed to become. And then, in one thunderous boom, everything exploded in a brilliant sheen of light. Ahnnie gasped and drew back, shielding her eyes with her right hand. When she looked out a moment later, the rift was gone.

She brusquely yanked her wrist from the pointy-eared man and backed away from him. "What was that?" she asked him fearfully. "What did you do?"

Now that she saw him more clearly, she noticed in addition to his pointed ears that he was as bald as a bird's egg. He left his head bare, even though he was properly clothed for the weather; if he felt cold, he did not show it. A mystical-looking staff was also strapped on his back, and had this been a fantasy movie she would've pegged him as the magician.

He smiled at her, his manner as serene as though they were simply discussing the weather. " _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours."

"You...you must have done _something..._ my hand never did that before!"

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand," he explained matter-of-factly. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

"Meaning that it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra suggested.

"Possibly," the bald man shrugged. Turning back to Ahnnie, he gave her a thoughtful look. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

She hugged her left hand uncertainly. "I do?"

"Good to know!" a rough voice suddenly exclaimed from behind. Ahnnie whirled around and saw the little man adjusting his gloves, his crossbow resting against his back. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." Striding up to the girl, he confidently introduced himself, "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He finished with a wink at Cassandra, who scowled in response.

Ahnnie took a step back, intimidated by the sight of his ginger chest hair. His shirt was open along the top, exposing plenty of it. It was a ridiculous thing to fixate on, but she couldn't help staring at his chest. It all seemed skewed, somehow, that he should have such a thick torso and be so short at the same time.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, "I'm just too good to be true. Feel free to look as much as you want; I'm not going anywhere."

She blushed and averted her eyes. "No, I wasn't – I don't – unwelcome tagalong?" she then asked, trying to change the subject.

"Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you," Varric explained.

_He is? Why?_

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra cut in before Ahnnie could speak. "Clearly that is no longer necessary."

"Yet here I am; lucky for you, considering the events." He sounded smug.

Cassandra stepped in front of Ahnnie, blocking her view of Varric. " _Absolutely not._ Your help is appreciated Varric, but–"

"Have you been in the valley, Seeker?" he interrupted. "Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You _need_ me."

She paused, silenced by his argument. Then she shook her head and moved away with a disgusted, "Ugh."

"My name is Solas, if there are to be any introductions," the bald man then said, a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. "I'm pleased to see you still live."

Ahnnie watched him suspiciously, remembering how he had forced her to close the rift.

"He means, ' _I kept that mark from killing you while you slept_ '," Varric clarified when he saw her look. "You know; back at the prison?"

Her suspicion only deepened. "Did you put it there?"

Solas seemed as unaffected by her accusation as he was by the cold. He did, however, attempt to be gentle. "I understand how things might seem to you. No, I did not put the mark on your–"

"Did Cassandra do it?"

The Seeker whirled around defiantly. "Absolutely not!" she snapped.

"I didn't do it, either," Varric interjected before the girl could get around to asking him. "I'm a prisoner too, remember?"

"Well, how am I supposed to believe any of you?" Ahnnie countered. She didn't mean to, but suddenly everyone she saw became a prime suspect in this strange predicament of hers. As her mind raced with what she had been through, her paranoia gained traction like a speeding train down a steep track. "First, I'm at home and this green light tries to attack my dogs; second, it drops me into some dark place with giant spiders; and then third, I wake up handcuffed in a dungeon and there's this...this _thing_ in my hand...!"

She winced at a sharp sting in her side and clutched it with a gloved hand; the winter wind had driven itself against her wound, sending small snow particles into the exposed skin. All of a sudden, she felt her adrenaline-pumped strength drain away and leave her back in her former position, aching and ailing with a migraine in her head. She slid down to the ground, hugging her bloody side, head hanging down in resignation. _Someone just kill me right now,_ she whimpered, feeling close to tears.

Solas came up to her, his face softening in pity. "Poor child," he murmured, and drew out his staff. Ahnnie flinched as its tip came close to her injured side, but watched with mesmerization as a cool white light began to emanate from it. He chanted a string of foreign words under his breath and the light fluctuated with every intonation. She became aware of a gentle warmth on her wounded side a moment later and felt the torn cloth with a careful hand.

"It's...it's healed," Ahnnie stammered in shock. "You...healed me..."

Solas smiled and drew back his staff. "I know you must be frightened," he began, "but right now, we need your help. Everything will be explained in due time, I promise you." And he held out his hand to her, an encouraging twinkle in his eyes.

She accepted the hand and allowed herself to be pulled back onto her feet. She stayed quiet for a moment, wondering if these strange people were still deserving of her suspicion. Just because one of them healed her miraculously didn't make them any better. Her anger lost much of its edge though, and when she imagined an entire group of people conspiring against her, placing an electric mark in her hand and forcing her to close demonic rifts in the sky, it seemed more than a little impossible. She was just one person and hardly anyone important. What benefit did they stand to gain in endangering her like so? It was kind of random, now that she thought of it.

 _I guess, for now, they're okay,_ she decided.

Solas then turned to the Seeker. "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I've ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage." His eyes flitted to her briefly before coming back to Cassandra. "Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

That word again, _mage_. And magic. Ahnnie was starting to become less skeptical of it, though.

"Understood," Cassandra nodded. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

"Wait, let me find my sword," Ahnnie said as she scanned the ground for the weapon. She couldn't go unarmed, after all.

"What, that clunky thing?" Varric asked. "No, what you need is a short sword. You looked like a dancing bear wielding that other one!" He pilfered the mentioned blade from a dead soldier's belt, paused, unbuckled the whole belt, and then handed the items to her. "Take his shield while you're at it," he added, and when she did so, he nodded in approval. "There you go. All set."

Varric was right; the short sword was lighter and easier in her hands. Ahnnie sheathed it, tightened the belt across her waist, and strapped the shield, a sturdy circle of wood, onto her wrist.

Without any further ado, Cassandra and Solas went ahead towards a spot to the right that was sectioned off by wooden boards rather than taking the stairs ahead of them. "The road ahead is blocked," Cassandra explained, and she hopped over the wood agilely, Solas following suit.

Varric chuckled as he moved forward. "Well, Bianca's excited!" he remarked.

Ahnnie followed after him slowly, testing the weight of her new items against her steps. "Who's that?" she asked.

"My crossbow."

"Oh."

Cassandra helped the girl over the wood when she seemed reluctant to jump and held her steady to keep her from tumbling down the steep hill path. When Varric joined them a second later, the quartet began their careful descent.

* * *

 

"So, I take it you're not from around here?" Varric asked.

Ahnnie looked up from staring off into space and glanced over at the short man. They had already left the hill behind and were walking down another path, once again alongside an icy river. "No, I'm not," she replied.

"I figured as much." He stared at her thoughtfully. "Your accent doesn't give much away...and your features..."

"Speaking of which, she still has that pallor, Cassandra," Solas remarked to the Seeker. "I thought I told you not to bring her out until she was better?"

"We had no choice," Cassandra argued. "She didn't seem to get any better, and the Breach was getting worse."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Solas. "What? What pallor?"

"Your skin," Solas explained. "Unless you've noticed, it's a pale yellowish tint..."

She frowned. Then it hit her: "Oh, no! No! I'm not pale! Well, maybe a little," she considered as she thought of her wound earlier and the physical misery she'd been through, as well as her mostly indoors lifestyle back home, "but yellow is my natural skin color. I'm Asian."

"Oh...I'm so sorry," Solas apologized when he realized how offensive he sounded. "I meant no harm. But of what nationality is _Ay-zhin_ , if I may ask? I've never heard of it before."

"She mentioned it earlier," Cassandra remarked, "when I asked for her name. She also talked of directors and cameras. Even threatened to sue my ' _filming company_ ' for kidnapping charges."

Ahnnie cleared her throat in embarrassment. "Erm, well, um..."

"What're cameras?" Varric asked.

"Do I look like I know?" Cassandra retorted.

Solas nodded as he took this all in. "I see..." Turning back to Ahnnie, he asked, "Care to elaborate?"

She was about to explain, but then frowned again. "You...really don't know what 'Asian' is?"

"I'm afraid not."

Was he serious? Could they really be as ignorant as she thought? When she saw their questioning faces, however, she realized with a sinking feeling that yes, they were. "If you say so..." Thus, rather haltingly, she began, "Asian is a race, from the continent of Asia. It's a blanket term that means people more to the _east_ of Asia, really, 'cause they're the first people to come to mind even though there's plenty of other ethnicities there too...Anyway, East Asians have yellowish skin like me, and black hair, with mostly brown or black eyes...Our features are...uh..."

She scratched the back of her head _._ "Well, it depends on where you're from. If you're Northeast Asian, like Chinese, Japanese, or Korean...do you know those? No? Okay, well, then your eyes might be more slanted and your features, more...mm...angular. If you're _South_ east Asian, like Thai, Cambodian, Laotian, Filipino, Vietnamese, your eyes and features might be rounder. I say 'might' because it's not the same everywhere, but those are the general differences I notice." _God, I sound racist._

"You're Southeast?" Solas interjected before she could get to explaining cameras.

"Oh, so you noticed," she chuckled. "Yeah, Southeast. Vietnamese, to be exact."

"And yet, you speak the Common tongue pretty well, for a foreigner," Solas remarked.

"Actually, where I'm from it's called–"

"This doesn't add up," Cassandra interrupted. "There is no continent in Thedas by the name of 'Asia'. And as far as race goes, the only difference seems to be in the skin color and facial features."

Ahnnie frowned. "But isn't it the skin color and facial features that make a race?"

"Elves and dwarves like Solas and Varric classify as races. Having a different skin color does not."

The girl paled as she realized what that meant. "Cassandra...where I come from, there are only humans. No elves or dwarves; just, humans."

The three of them gave her looks that ranged from confusion to disbelief.

"There is no place called 'Thedas' either," she added a moment later.

The resulting silence was unnerving. Even Varric, who'd come across as the most outspoken of the group, did not say a word. Ahnnie wondered if the same thought was running through their heads as was going through hers: _Is it possible that I've fallen into a different world entirely?_

To be honest, it had been an underlying suspicion of hers ever since she fought her first shade. Coupled with the Breach in the sky and what little she gleaned from Cassandra about the Fade and Veil, she was starting to become a little more convinced that this place wasn't the same as the one she'd come from. And then, in no particular order, Solas healed her with light from his staff ( _magic?_ she wondered), there were too many corpses for a coincidence of any sort, and Varric was too proportionate to be a human with the medical condition of dwarfism–

So many things came together, too many factors for her to properly count, and they were slowly convincing her every second of that thought.

Cassandra led the group off the path onto ice, and for once, it wasn't because the path was ending. Rather, she seemed to purposefully make for another stone staircase cut into the side of a hill on the opposite bank. Ahnnie tensed yet again as her boot touched the frozen river, and a hand went to the hilt of her new short sword. So far, nothing. They made it to the first steps safely and began their ascent.

It was here her left hand flared again with crackling energy, making her wince. The pain didn't knock her down as it had before (that much was a relief), but it still made her face twist in discomfort.

"Shit, you all right?" Varric asked in concern.

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip as she pointedly held the marked hand away from her body. "I'm fine," she ground out a moment later.

"That thing must hurt a lot."

"It does..."

They crested the top of the stairs and Cassandra turned left towards even _more_ stairs. Ahnnie heaved a sigh of exasperation as she and the others made their way up. Varric noticed it and chuckled.

"Havin' a tough time?"

"My foot hurts."

"You're not used to a lot of exercise, aren't you?"

She blinked. "How'd you know?"

"You've worked up quite a sweat where Cassandra hasn't broken any, for one. And yes, you're pale."

Ahnnie smiled dryly. "I guess. I spent a lot of my time back home doing things like reading and drawing. I never really did all this..." She gestured vaguely at the weapon in her belt.

The dwarf nodded thoughtfully. "Say, I never got your name," Varric pointed out a moment later.

"Really?"

"Nope."

Well, she had to remedy that, didn't she? She basically told him what she'd told Cassandra, giving him the pronunciation of her real name and explaining why she used her nickname. He readily accepted it without complaint, agreeing that Ahnnie was easier on the tongue. Solas, however, was keen to hear the exact pronunciation of the real name.

"Say it again, please," he asked her.

She complied, although she didn't see how it would be useful to him especially since Varric and Cassandra had trouble with it.

The elf paused a moment, as if to register the sounds. Then, a few moments later, he said, "Diễm Anh," almost as perfectly as though he were a native.

Ahnnie had not expected that, as her gaping mouth indicated. Solas chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It is a simple dip and rise of the vocal cords," he said. "One must be willing to be more flexible in the throat." He rubbed the middle of his neck to show them.

"That's...that's exactly how it is," Ahnnie gasped. "You're good, Solas."

"Nothing keen observation can't do."

"Ah, show-off," Varric snorted.

They came to the top of the stairs and Ahnnie was pleased to notice that her banter with the dwarf and the elf had mostly taken her mind off her pain. Still, she wondered how much farther they had to go. All this walking reminded her of why cars were invented in the first place.

"We're almost there," Solas remarked as he looked about him.

Cassandra took in the burning wagons and black scorch marks in the dirt with a grim eye. There were also a few specks in the distance that Ahnnie suspected were burning bodies and she quickly used her scarf to cover her nose.

Suddenly, Varric gave a warning cry and whipped out Bianca; a second later, an arrow was launched into the head of a shade they hadn't seen amongst the burning rubble.

When the demon died, Cassandra shook her head. "I hope Leliana made through all this."

"She's resourceful, Seeker," Varric assured her as he replaced Bianca on his back.

"Leliana?" Ahnnie asked. "Is that the lady with the purple hood?"

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. She–"

A bloodcurdling scream cut through the air. It came from a distance, down the path to the south.

The quartet quickened their pace. Even Ahnnie did her best to keep up, worried as she was. She felt a little safer knowing more people were part of the group. The farther they went, the more they could hear the faraway sounds of conflict. Soon they came up to a short set of stone stairs beneath an overhanging rock and Ahnnie's mark vibrated again. Cassandra bounded up the steps first and confirmed the girl's suspicions when she yelled, "Another rift!"

When Ahnnie reached the last step, she saw the rift for herself, hanging above two soldiers who were backing up against a gate, two shades and two wraiths cornering them. A third soldier lay face down on the ground, dark blood splattered on the snow beneath him.

"They keep coming!" one of the soldiers cried. "Help us!"

"Help is on the way," Varric exclaimed as he aimed Bianca. Cassandra ran out to attack one of the shades and Solas brandished his staff. As the elf twirled his weapon in the air, bolts of ice shot out from the tip, freezing a shade from the bottom down. It jerked fruitlessly against the ice and received a new scar from Cassandra.

Ahnnie froze before the scene, unsure of what to do. Then she saw the green wraiths spewing their magic balls, one of which briefly hit Varric, and drew up her shield. _Let's hope this works_ , she thought as she made her steady charge, for this was the first time she was initiating any action without being forced or told to. When she came close to a wraith, she ducked out of her shield and swiped her blade at it. She did the same tip-slice thing that Cassandra taught her, assuming from the shape of the short sword that it was no different from the bigger one.

The wraith fell back and she assailed it with quicker movements. Thanks to Solas' magic, she was able to move without the constraint of the wounds. This wraith was a little tougher than the one she fought before, putting up more of a fight and not dissipating when she expected it to, but after taking enough of her swipes and stabs, it poofed away into nothing.

 _I think the key is to disrupt its shape as much as possible,_ the girl thought as she made her way to the next wraith. _These things aren't very smart –_ she'd noticed that too with the shades, that the demons seemed to focus more on simply hitting without much thought to strategy – _so as long as I'm quick about it, it should be over with soon._

She tested out that theory by not only slicing at the next wraith but also 'bashing' it with her shield. Following up with a few quick sword strikes, the wispy creature was soon defeated, and Ahnnie felt a sense of accomplishment upon figuring out the secret to destroying one of these monsters more easily.

"Hurry!" Solas suddenly called out to her. "Use the mark!"

Ahnnie whirled around and saw that the shades were dead. "O-oh, coming!" She sheathed her sword and headed up to the rift. _Okay, here goes nothing._ With a cursory flex of her left hand and a steadying breath, she raised it up towards the rift...

...and after enduring that strange pulling sensation as a beam from her hand connected with the rift for about thirty seconds, it exploded and was no more.

The girl fell back onto her bum, not yet able to keep her balance against the momentum. But she'd done it; she not only took down two wraiths on her own, she'd just sealed a rift on her own too. She realized with a little bit of embarrassment that Solas didn't exactly have to hold her hand up; the sensation had been startling at first, but once she knew what was going to happen, it felt a little funny and nothing more. A tiny bit numb, and then ticklish as her nerves regained their senses. She would take it any day over a flare, that was for sure.

Solas rushed over to her, holding her up by the arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "It just kind of...blew me away." She turned her head toward the gate, hoping that the remaining two soldiers had made it, and noticed them staring at her wide-eyed.

"The rift is gone," Cassandra reminded them. "Open the gate!"

One of them blinked for several more seconds before scrambling to do as she ordered. "Right away, Lady Cassandra!"

As they pushed at the gates, Varric came up to Ahnnie, gesturing with his head at her hand. "Whatever that thing on your hand is, it sure is useful."

"Indeed," Solas agreed, smiling at her. "Well done."

Ahnnie supposed she could spare a small smile back. "Thanks," she said timidly, and began to rub the feeling back into her left hand. She chanced a small look at her palm as she did so and noticed a large green slash in the skin, as though she'd been wounded but nature gave it the wrong color. It slanted in a decline starting at the base of her pinky, ending at the bottom of her thumb.

She was startled by a rough touch on her shoulder and looked up to see Cassandra. "Come along," the woman urged her. "We are at the forward camp now."

"Forward...?" Ahnnie looked at the open gate and the bridge it opened up to. "Oh! So that's it!" She mentally laughed at herself when she noticed the others had already gone through. "Right, I'm coming!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's established that Ahnnie is of Southeast Asian descent, and there are no similar people in Thedas: there will be remarks made from other characters about her appearance that might come across as offensive to some. But know that I am simply writing what I think would be accurate reactions from a group of people who have never seen an East-ish Asian before.


	4. The Wrath of Heaven

"We must prepare the soldiers," Leliana insisted.

"We will do no such thing," Chancellor Roderick retorted.

Leliana wasn't a woman who was amazed or surprised by much. She'd seen a lot, been through a lot, done a lot – and yet, people like the Chancellor still awed her, in a way. How could anyone be so obstinate that they would refuse to see the solution before their eyes? Didn't they know that leaving certain problems unaddressed, to fester and grow, would only make things worse? At the slightest sign of danger or uncertainty, these people always chose the safest route; or, as Leliana called it, 'ignorance'.

Regardless, she kept pressing her point. If she didn't, how would anything ever get done? It was bad enough that the explosion at the Conclave gave him more power than he was usually warranted. "The prisoner must go to the Temple of Sacred Ashes," she repeated for the third time that day. "It is our only chance!"

"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility," the Chancellor spat.

" _I_ have caused trouble?" The edge in her voice was unmistakable.

The Chancellor, a stern man easing into midlife, scowled as he bent over a paper on the desk before him. The expression emphasized the lines of his mouth and eyes, not all of which were brought upon by age. For all his obstinacy, Leliana knew he was a man devoted to his work, often up late at night tirelessly attending to important matters.

But he was still a pighead. "You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven't you all done enough already?"

The corner of Leliana's eye twitched ever-so-slightly. An attack on her, she could withstand. A snide remark about Cassandra, she wouldn't worry about; the Seeker was able to fend for herself. But to speak of the Most Holy, Divine Justinia V, in such a disparaging manner – how _dare_ he. "You are not in command here," Leliana reminded him, her voice dangerously soft.

"Enough!" he snapped. "I will not have it!" But before she could respond, the Chancellor looked up from the paper and straightened his posture. "Ah, here they come," he remarked.

Leliana looked up and saw Cassandra, Solas, and Varric approaching them with the prisoner in tow. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw that they had arrived unharmed, the prisoner especially – she seemed like such an inexperienced girl that Leliana was almost afraid she wouldn't make it through all the demons in the valley. _A good thing the others were with her,_ the spymaster thought.

"You made it," Leliana greeted them. Turning to the Chancellor, she began, "Chancellor Roderick, this is–"

"I know who she is," Roderick interrupted her. His tone reminded Leliana of a cranky old man. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!"

 _Here we go again,_ Leliana sighed.

The prisoner's face blanched beneath her helmet. "Execution?" she breathed, the fear palpable in her voice. She turned anxiously towards Cassandra. "Can he really–"

"'Order _me_ '?" Cassandra cut her off, a hand extended toward the girl signaling for her to be silent. " _You_ are a glorified clerk; a bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug," Roderick countered, "but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor," Leliana put in coolly. "As you well know."

"Justinia is _dead_!" he snapped yet again. "We must elect her replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter."

Leliana felt a pang of hurt as well as annoyance as the Chancellor reminded them of this all-too-obvious fact. The Divine's untimely end had struck her more than she was willing to show anyone. Still, that didn't mean he could push them all around like they were his personal servants.

"C'mon, Chancellor, have a heart," Varric spoke up. "She's just a kid." He looked over at the prisoner, rough eyes slanting in sympathy. "About how old – fifteen? Sixteen?"

The prisoner's response shocked even Leliana. "I'm twenty."

There was a small silence before Varric broke it with a chuckle. "Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"Asians tend to look young," the girl (or 'young woman', Leliana supposed, although she still looked at the childish face and thought 'girl') scrambled to explain. "So...uh...yeah..."

Chancellor Roderick's face darkened. If he thought anything of her explanation, which didn't really enlighten things, he did not show it. "It doesn't matter how old or young you are. You _killed_ everyone who was in charge!"

The girl flinched at the volume of his voice and her eyes widened in shock. "That's – That's a lie! I've never killed anybody in my life! What sort of evidence do you have to support that?"

"He's talking about the explosion," Varric supplied.

"How was that _my_ fault?" she protested. "I wasn't there! I don't even understand half the things everyone's saying about it!"

But ignoring the girl and the dwarf, Roderick turned his serious gaze upon Cassandra. "Call a retreat, Seeker," he pleaded, and his voice sounded tired. "Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it's too late," Cassandra argued.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We _must_ get to the temple; it's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," Leliana reminded them. Her hands behind her back, she paced around the length of the table. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains." She stopped and pointed up at the rocky face of a great mountain behind the Chancellor, and all eyes – the prisoner's especially – looked to where she indicated. "It is indirect and may take some more time than a straight charge, but it is still fast and the problem will be addressed sooner."

Cassandra shook her head. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

"But if we don't–"

" _Listen to me_ ," the Chancellor hissed, and everyone turned to him. For a moment, his severe face softened and his voice became fatherly and sad. "Abandon this now, before more lives are lost."

 _And we will lose more still, if we leave it as it is,_ Leliana thought. She once heard a saying long ago, from someone wise: _The road to hell is often paved with good intentions._ She originally thought it was about making moral decisions, but life had taught her that 'hell' could just about mean 'suffering' and 'chaos' as much as it was 'evil'.

Before she could make her point, the Breach rumbled and widened, sending a shower of meteors crashing down into the valley; the Chancellor, startled, ducked back a little as he swerved his head to regard the pulsing green pillar, glowing visibly behind the mountain Leliana had pointed to. The others did the same, even if they weren't as skittish.

And then the mark crackled. Leliana's attention immediately went to the prisoner, who was doubling over in pain. Her eyes screwed shut as she grasped the wrist of her left hand, and a hiss of pain whistled through her teeth. When the flares dispersed, she straightened up slowly, although not without a look of horror on her face as she stared at her hand.

"It's getting bigger," she whispered fearfully, and Leliana realized then that the girl had not given the mark a good look until recently.

Of course, the Chancellor was unamused; his soft expression quickly hardened as soon as he saw the flare for himself, which seemed to confirm the prisoner's guilt.

"We will charge the path with soldiers," Cassandra then said with finality. "There is no time to be wasting. We must do this, and we must do it _now_."

"We're not staying?" the prisoner suddenly asked. "I thought you said I could rest at the forward camp..."

"I said you could get your wound patched up at the forward camp," Cassandra corrected her. "But Solas has healed you, so there is no reason to further our presence here."

"You only sacrifice a little more time in ensuring your safety," Leliana pointed out, returning them to the matter at hand.

"I'm afraid we may not even have that luxury," the Seeker said softly while still looking at the prisoner. Shaking her head, she gestured for Solas and Varric to take the prisoner towards the next gate. Turning to Leliana, she instructed her to bring everyone left in the valley. "Everyone," she repeated with a heavy emphasis.

Seeing no point in arguing further, Leliana gave a quick nod and headed towards the open gate that the group had entered through. It was not always that people listened to her, but she trusted the Seeker's judgment; more so than the Chancellor's anyway. Besides, she was resourceful, and was formulating already a plan that could make this work.

As Cassandra walked by in the opposite direction, the Chancellor gave her a sidelong glare. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker," he hissed.

* * *

 

The initial reactions to the revelation of her age made Ahnnie feel awkward. Had this been in a normal conversation from whence she came, people might have asked her, "Why are you still with your parents? Why do you still listen to them like you're a little girl?"

 _Why do you not think for yourself before you ask?_ she would have been tempted to counter with, but never would, thanks to politeness.

Did they not think she was ashamed to have reached legal adulthood, and yet not be as the rest of her age were? That she resented her parents' overbearing hand just as much as the rest of them would? 'Parents' was, perhaps, not the best label. They were her mother and a stepfather, but what else could she address them by? Mother-and-stepdad was a mouthful. 'Parents' summed it up on one short word and was half-true, anyway.

So she would answer, with anger simmering in her veins and a mask of politeness on her face: "Oh, they're just not ready to let me go yet."

Some would come to the conclusion that it was the culture and eye her strangely – others would think of it as endearing and wish their adult children (if they had any) were as obedient to them. No one knew of the iron grip called 'fear' that chained her to her parents' whims and moved her about like a puppet. Hell, she didn't even know how to _drive_. As a result, she never felt fully adult-like. It was as though she were suspended in a perpetual state of girlhood...and she didn't make it any better by playing the helpless Cinderella, quietly studying for her degree online and turning to books and art to ignore the situation.

To say that life with them was an eternal torture would have been a lie. It was mostly normal and seemed to go on as it did for just about everybody else. But there were moments that made her doubt; moments in which she felt like an utter failure. _What is wrong with me?_ she would think during such times. _Why can't I just grow a spine and leave?_

So as shocking and infuriating as Chancellor Roderick had been, that mouse-faced man in a wimple and religious robes, it was actually kind of refreshing to hear him accuse her. The _'doesn't matter how old or young you are_ ' part, anyway. It made her feel like she could actually accomplish something on her own, independent of her insecurities.

"You all right?" Varric asked her as they trudged up the mountain.

"Hmm?" she asked. "Yeah."

"Your face says otherwise."

She shrugged. "Well..."

The dwarf gave her an encouraging clap on the back. "Don't let the Chancellor get to you. He's just acting tough."

"He can't do anything," Cassandra added. "He is just an overly-inflated scholar. Nothing more."

It heartened her a bit that the others tried to make her feel better about what they thought stemmed from the Chancellor's unwelcome demeanor. But the truth was not hers to freely tell. _They would laugh at me,_ she thought; _if they knew what I was like, they would think that I'm inadequate. I doubt that they were like me at my age._ That was, she was sure neither of them were twenty at the moment. Even if they were, they were certainly stronger than her, more certain of their destinies. _I envy them._

The jogging of the soldiers ahead served as a minor distraction from these troublesome thoughts. They had been dispatched to go along with the group back at the forward camp, taking the lead as they made sure the path was clear. She had to admire their endurance; they'd been steadily jogging ever since their departure, despite the inclining path. She would have dropped to her knees in exhaustion much sooner.

The group rounded a southern path into a westerly direction, heading up to a checkpoint camp cut into the side of the mountain. The camp was accessible by a short set of stairs, which the soldiers ran up first. Directly across the camp was a similar set of stairs leading through what was once the doorway of a stone structure; all that remained was the doorway itself and a few broken walls.

Ahnnie was glad they wouldn't be stopping at this camp; directly to the left, a Chantry sister (for that was what those women in red-and-white robes were, as Cassandra explained to her) knelt praying over an alarming amount of covered bodies. But as soon as the soldiers ahead of them poured through the doorway, a green blast sent one of them flying back onto the stairs.

He landed with a _crack_ and never moved again.

Solas took out his staff and Varric readied Bianca. Cassandra turned to Ahnnie and asked, "Is there a rift ahead?"

The girl flexed her vibrating left hand and nodded. _Demons, here we come_ , she thought, and then they ran through the doorway.

Ahnnie was able to witness the coming of the demons for the first time; the crystalline rift shot forth beams of bright green light, searing the ground where it hit. Just as it had been on her first encounter on the ice, the demons grew from those spots: three shades and three wraiths. She unsheathed her short sword and made for the wraiths. A good number of the soldiers that had accompanied them still lived, so two others were already working away at the other wraiths while the rest hacked away at the shades. Ahnnie thought she could see a soldier who she hadn't recognized, a man with big furs on his shoulders, but didn't pay much attention as she attacked her target.

The wraith soon gone, Ahnnie made to assist the others with the rest of the demons, but paused before she could run by the rift. _I should probably close it right now,_ she thought. _What if more demons come through? That'd make this more difficult for us._ She nodded as she saw the logic in this and raised her left hand towards the rift. As before, a beam bridged the gap between her hand and the rift, making it fold in on itself.

But when it exploded, it didn't disappear. It hung in the air as a thin gossamer veil of green instead, twisting and turning at the edges. A few seconds later, it bunched up on itself and returned to its previous crystalline form.

She gasped. _Wh-what?_

How could this be? The previous two rifts she'd closed had done so immediately. And was it just her, or was it shooting more beams into the ground?

The earth beneath her feet trembled. When she looked down, a circle of green light traced itself around her and the rocks trembled faster. Before she could do anything, she was suddenly propelled into the air as a long, spindly creature erupted from the ground.

She felt the sword fly from her hand before landing on a dead soldier not too far away from where she'd stood. It took her a moment to realize what she'd fallen on, but as she pushed herself up by the elbows on his chest, she found herself struggling to decide which was scarier: the corpse or the new demon?

 _I think I prefer the dead guy,_ she thought as the monster rose itself to full height; at least a corpse couldn't hurt her. This demon was not as bulky as a shade but it towered well above one, perhaps even surpassing two shades' height. Its shriek was more haunting, and as it echoed through her ears, she found herself gripped with a terror that trumped all her previous fears combined.

"A terror demon!" someone shouted. A moment later it was revealed to be Solas, who called out to her from where he stood. "Ahnnie, do not let it feed on your terror! Close the rift instead!"

"I tried to do that!" she screamed back. "It didn't close! It just–" She yelped as the terror demon swung its long arm down on her like a club. She barely managed to dodge the blow and was splattered with the dead soldier's blood as the demon's fist burst through the body like a hammer on a nut.

When she looked back up, she was even more horrified to see not one but _two_ of these demons. They walked towards her on their stilt-like legs, hissing with a poisonous vehemence that chilled her to the very core.

A bolt of ice struck one on the foot and froze its limb into place. Another followed suit on the other foot, and the demon was stuck, jerking angrily at its binds.

Solas jumped into view beside her a second later, a hand hooking under her armpit to raise her to her feet. "Just try it again," he urged. "The previous demons were more easily vanquished after you did it the first time."

"But what if it doesn't work?" she asked.

He didn't seem to have an answer for that. Instead, he pushed her out and assured her, "We will take care of the terror demons while you close the rift."

She seriously contemplated fleeing. Whether it was because the demons were feeding on her terror or she was truly more terrified than she'd ever been, all she wanted to do was to run away and hide herself somewhere safe. But then she saw the men rallying towards the demons, bolstered by a war cry from the soldier in the furs, and she realized that they were doing this so she could accomplish her task. They were risking their lives to fight against the demons, and if she just left them there to die...

She cursed herself as a fool as she sped back towards the rift. She only paused once to pick up her fallen short sword, lying several feet away from the corpse that she had fallen on; or at least what remained of it. Ahnnie gulped as she tried not to look at the bloody mess, in the middle of which was a curling red mass that must surely have been the intestines. When she faced the rift once more, she thrust her hand upwards and prayed the beam would close it for good this time.

Her left arm vibrated unstably as the rift neared completion. She grit her teeth against the pressure and pressed on, pushing her hand closer as if it could spur the process faster. When it finally burst closed (she never thought she'd use that description in her life, ' _burst closed_ ', but that was how it seemed to be), she didn't even notice it was gone until her arm was rudely pushed aside by the blast. _At least I didn't fall down this time,_ she thought.

Careful footsteps crunched on the rocks and Solas appeared by her side a moment later, eyeing the spot where the rift had been. "Interesting," he muttered. "It went through two stages before it could be closed..."

"Whaddyou think that means?" Varric inquired as he strode up on the other side of Solas.

"Perhaps in areas where the Veil is thinner, the corresponding rift is more difficult to close?" Solas shrugged. "Whatever the cause, it requires more careful research before we can reach a conclusion."

Ahnnie massaged her left hand and looked back towards Cassandra. "I hope two's the most it ever comes to," she remarked to herself and her ear quickly picked up on a conversation between Cassandra and the soldier in furs, the fight apparently over.

"...managed to close the rift? Well done."

"Do not congratulate me, Commander," the Seeker deflected. "This is the prisoner's doing."

 _They're talking about me?_ she wondered. When she saw Cassandra look at her and gesture for her to come, she hesitantly stepped forward, suddenly conscious of a smear of corpse blood on her cheek.

That was because the soldier – or rather, Commander – was looking her over with a critical eye. He had a serious, chiseled face with brushed-back blonde hair and a smattering of stubble capping his chin. His eyes, while not as severe as Cassandra's, were imposing in their own right and made her feel small. _If he wanted to, he could look gentle,_ she thought. _I guess I'm just here at a bad time._

"Is it?" he asked, his voice a smooth baritone where Varric's was rough and smoky. "I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here."

She didn't know what to say to that. It was obvious from his tone and choice of words that he wasn't very pleased with what was going on. Or her, for that matter. Add in the fact that people had died just so she could reach this spot, and Ahnnie felt even worse than she already did.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, before the silence became too much to take.

Yet another silence stretched on as the Commander continued staring at her. "And?" he asked a moment later, perhaps expecting her to continue.

"That's...it. I'm sorry. I didn't...well, I didn't mean for anyone to be lost because of me..."

She couldn't have worded it any lamer even if she tried. Cassandra gave her a disapproving frown, but then again, the woman always looked like she was frowning, so it was hard to tell. Ahnnie was quickly put aside at any rate when the Commander turned back to Cassandra, pointing down at the edge of the ruins. Ahnnie was surprised to see the Breach right where his finger indicated, snaking above another set of ruins directly ahead of them. _We're here already?_

"The way to the temple should be clear," he informed her. "Leliana will try to meet you there."

"Then we'd best move quickly," Cassandra responded, looking in that direction. "Give us time, Commander."

He gave her a quick military nod before wishing them well. "Maker watch over you – for all our sakes."

Ahnnie watched as he and the other soldiers made their retreat back to the checkpoint camp. Her fear of him softened when she witnessed him helping a limping soldier across the chaotically strewn rubble. _He cares for his men,_ she thought, and when she remembered his stony reception of her, she felt less intimidated by it than she had before. It was only a moment of reprieve in a dark situation, however, and she turned her attention back towards the group. _Right...we've got something bigger to worry about._ With a gulp, she walked after them.

* * *

 

" _Holy fuck!_ " Ahnnie screamed, falling back onto her bottom in shock. They had just reached the ruins' edge, which turned out to be a high ledge from which one had to jump down, when she saw the burnt corpses kneeling in agony on the valley floor below.

Unlike the frozen bodies she'd seen earlier, these corpses were paralyzed in their last actions, either cowering on their knees or standing and shielding their faces from something horrifying. Whatever it was, it had swept over them and burnt their skin into nothing but crispy black tissue stretched tightly over bones, mummifying them in place.

The girl's cries echoed throughout the valley several times before fading out into nothing; Cassandra, whose foot had been poised to launch herself over the ridge, whipped her head around in alarm, but scowled upon finding nothing wrong with the girl besides her horror.

Solas blinked. "Well."

Varric merely gave her an inquisitive look.

Ahnnie covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry–"

"Don't worry about it," Varric chuckled. "We can handle a few curse words."

"It's just, the corpses – are they real?" She pointed a shaky finger towards the black mummies.

"Yes, they are real." It was Cassandra this time, and she sounded less than amused. "They were one of the first victims of the explosion as it swept through the temple."

The Seeker jumped off the ledge and the dwarf and elf soon followed; when it was Ahnnie's turn, she caught the girl in her arms and set her down as gently as possible. Regardless, her left foot hit the ground a little hard and she twisted her face in pain.

"Broken toe," she ground out when she saw the confused looks of Varric and Solas. When Cassandra withdrew her arms a moment later, she looked at the stones about her, doing her best to keep the corpses at the fringe of her vision. Ahead of them, slightly to the right, was an opening to what looked like a small tunnel glowing with orange torchlight. It had the square shape of a manmade structure, so it wasn't a cave. It could have been a part of a bigger building, as indicated by the broken walls around them.

"What is it?" the girl asked, awed. Somehow, she remembered that place, and yet did not at the same time. She attributed it to some vague sense of déjà vu.

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas answered.

"What's left of it," Varric gruffly added.

"So this...this is the temple that exploded?" When Cassandra nodded, Ahnnie asked yet again, "This is where the Conclave was destroyed?"

"Yes, it is," Cassandra affirmed.

"This is where..."

"...you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," the Seeker finished for the bewildered girl.

 _I see..._ She shook her head. "It's nothing," she assured them. "I just found it overwhelming, that I came out from here..." But then she frowned and faced Cassandra again. "Wait, wait, wait. You said I stepped out of the _Fade_? That realm of spirits and demons?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I was – I was in _there_?"

"I _did_ tell you the rifts and the Breach were tears in the Veil," Cassandra reminded her.

Ahnnie groaned, closing her eyes as though doing so could erase that horrible realization. Indeed, how could she have missed that? _Those giant spiders – they were demons!_ Or they must have been, since those were among the only two inhabitants of the place that she knew of. The thought made her feel queasy all over again.

When she reopened her eyes, she waved her hand weakly in the air before her. "Let's just get this over with," she sighed. "Maybe I'll wake up and it'll only be some horrible nightmare."

"If only things were so easy," Cassandra remarked softly, and onward they marched.

The tunnel turned out to be a short one, going in a right then left turn before it deposited them into the heart of the ruins. Ahnnie walked slowly, conscious of a pain in her left foot that hadn't been there before she jumped from the ledge. It was muffled by the thick padding Cassandra wound around her toes, but could still be felt regardless, and she worried something untoward had happened when her foot struck the stone. She pushed the thought out of her mind and looked up as they exited the tunnel, taking in the desolate scene before her.

What must have once been an impressive chamber of the temple was now a black, charred crater. Some parts still flared with heat, burning away in small patches of flame. It was a miracle any piece of the temple survived at all. Meanwhile, the Breach swirled lazily at the center of the crater, illuminating the blackened ground with a sickening hue of green, stretching on and on until she had to crane her head back to see it pierce the clouds in the sky. Even then, she suspected it went on forever, perhaps even touching the outer layers of the atmosphere.

And at the base of the Breach, jagged green edges standing out against the smoky background, was a large crystalline rift thirty or so feet from the ground.

Ahnnie came up to the remains of what was once a balcony and leaned against the railing between Solas and Varric to steady herself. _Oh my god. I have to close that thing. I have to – oh my god. Please let it just be a nightmare._

"You're here!" a mellifluous voice cried out, jarring her thoughts. "Thank the Maker."

Ahnnie whirled around to find Leliana coming through the tunnel with some soldiers behind her. Unlike before, the woman was armed with a longbow and a quiver of arrows at her back. She supposed she should be happy that more people were accompanying them, but she could only feel more grim when she thought of the amount of men it would take to assist in their endeavor. _And it doesn't look like they brought enough..._

Cassandra wasted no time on greetings or formalities. "Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple." When she nodded and went back towards the men to give them their instructions, Cassandra turned to Ahnnie and said, "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"The...the whole thing?" Ahnnie stammered nervously, pointing up at the Breach. "All of it? Right now?"

"No," Solas corrected her. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

 _So just the rift,_ she thought, yet only managed to feel a tiny prick of relief.

"Then let's find a way down, and be careful."

Those words were Cassandra's, of course; Ahnnie couldn't imagine herself capable of being so determined in the face of such danger. It was also Cassandra who led the charge, taking the path to their right when no other way seemed viable. It led into what was once a corridor overlooking the heart of the temple. As they advanced, a flash like lightning pulsed through the air, making everything brighter for a second or two.

The path turned left, and when they made the turn, Ahnnie heard a booming man's voice echo against the temple's walls:

" **Now is the hour of victory. Bring forth the sacrifice**."

Cassandra was the first to remark about it. "What are we hearing?" she asked, clearly unnerved.

"At a guess, the person who created the Breach," Solas said.

They turned left yet again, and it was growing apparent to Ahnnie that they were going in a circle. On this stretch, though, growths of a strange, pulsing red crystal jutted out from the rocks that walled them in on the right.

"You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker," Varric hissed to Cassandra, a tone of fear in his voice. Ahnnie didn't like that even the most robust of their group seemed perturbed.

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it _doing_ here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it," Solas suggested.

Ahnnie's head swam in confusion. _Yet another thing I don't understand!_ "What's red lyrium?"

But rather than a full explanation, Varric just shook his head. "It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

This warning came when her shoulder almost touched an outreaching tip of the crystal; Ahnnie barely avoided it, swerving in time only to stumble over Varric. "Sorry," she apologized when she righted herself, and the quartet turned left once more at the top of a set of stairs leading downwards.

" **Keep the sacrifice still** ," that booming voice echoed again when they all got off the last step. They were getting closer to the bottom of the crater now, with just a few more yards before the path ended in a cut to the right.

They jumped off this cut and now stood upon the blackened ground of the crater. The rift lay before them, shifting its crystalline points as it drew power from the Breach. Ahnnie was aware of a crackling to her left and held up her hand to find it flaring again. She winced as the pain cut through her flesh, and although it was now more tolerable – perhaps even familiar – she was no less tempted to relieve herself of it through amputation.

" **Someone help me!** " a voice called out, and now that she was standing close to it, Ahnnie realized it was coming from the rift. Unlike the booming voice earlier, though, this was a woman's voice.

"Divine Justinia!" Cassandra gasped.

Before any questions could be asked, a flash of white light burst from the rift and momentarily blinded the quartet; a second later, a curtain of mist obscured the rift and a hazy scene played upon it, like a screening of a poor-quality movie.

Ahnnie blinked away the tears as her stinging eyes watched it unfold. An old woman in gilded Chantry robes was held floating in the air, at this very spot, she realized, by a bright red energy around her arms. In front of her was a dark...entity of some sort. Ahnnie couldn't see it clearly.

A brazen young man stepped into the scene, looking angrily about him. " **What's going on here?** " he demanded.

Ahnnie's eyes widened when she recognized him.

The old woman, Divine Justinia, turned towards the young man with a look of horror on her face. " **Run while you can!** " she urged him. " **Warn them!** "

But the dark entity noticed and turned towards the young man as well. " **We have an intruder** ," the entity announced, and Ahnnie realized the booming voice earlier was his. With a point of a jagged finger, the entity commanded to servants unseen, " **Kill him. Now!** "

The screen flashed and the images disappeared in the white blast that followed. Ahnnie shut her eyes against the light, eyes watering even more, and opened them a second later to see the rift as it had been.

"The Divine," Cassandra murmured, and she whirled upon the group with a sudden ferocity. "That vision! Was it true? And the Divine, is she–"

"I saw that man in the Fade," Ahnnie interrupted. "The one who ran into me. It was _him._ Oh my god, it was him..."

Cassandra went quiet for a moment. "I met him."

Ahnnie looked up at her. "What?"

"The youngest son of Bann Trevelyan, a noble house from the Free Marches..." Cassandra _tsked_ and shook her head. "I met him several days before the Conclave began. He had struck me as the rambunctious sort, and he..." She gave up explaining and sighed. "What did we just see?"

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas supplied as he studied the rift. "The Fade bleeds into this place..." Turning back to the group, he said, "This rift is not sealed but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However...opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Cassandra confirmed Ahnnie's thoughts as she exclaimed, "That means demons. Stand ready!"

The others around her began readying their weapons. After a moment of thought, Ahnnie tentatively slid out her short sword, feeling the fear beat in her chest in time with her heart. She noticed movement from the corner of her eye and flinched as she turned to regard it; but she had nothing to worry about as soldiers suddenly poured into the crater from openings in the temple ruins on either side of them. Above her, archers stood perched on the walls, arrows nocked and aimed for whatever would emerge from the rift. _They may not be enough in number,_ she thought, _but I'm certainly glad they're here._

And so she reached her hand towards the rift, feeling the power stream out from her mark into the dark green crystal. At the same time, she wondered whether she was making a huge mistake. When the rift exploded a moment later, a bright green beam of light immediately zeroed in on the ground in the midst of a group of soldiers. After the dust cleared, a giant horned demon stepped out, roaring at the puny men who dared to face it. Its skin was rough like twisted bark and small sparks of electricity ran between its limbs and horns.

Electricity.

"Now!" Cassandra cried, and the archers loosed their arrows. A moment later, the soldiers closed in around the group and rushed toward the demon, hacking away at its legs.

Ahnnie, on the other hand, ran towards an outcropping of rocks and hid herself as she clawed away at the straps on her armor.

She tried not to listen to the electrical crackles on the demon's hide, focusing instead on the sounds of the battle and threw her helmet off her head. Then she successfully released a pauldron from her shoulder. The next came off soon after and she quickly went to work on her breastplate. She couldn't figure out how to untie its straps, however, and frantically struggled to loosen them enough to push through the armor and throw it off like a shirt. When she got to the greaves, Varric scared her with his incredulous cries. She looked up to see him backed against the outcropping, eyes wide.

"What're you doing!?" he yelled above the noise of the demon's roar. "You're gonna need that armor!"

Ahnnie flung off the last greave and got up to her feet. "Not now!" After shedding all that metal, she felt much safer from the demon, regardless of whether she was actually more vulnerable or not. She jogged past Varric, slowed herself when her foot protested in pain, and looked around to make sure the demon was nowhere near. To her relief, it was engaged in combat with the others directly across from her, its great back turned to her.

Without wasting any more time, she thrust her left hand at the rift, hoping it was one of those rifts that would close on the first go.

No such luck – the rift burst but continued to hang as a shimmering veil of light, just as it had done back at the checkpoint camp. Luckily, the disruption caused the demon to kneel in place, making it easier for the men and Cassandra to attack it.

 _Perhaps the second time will work,_ Ahnnie thought, and she waited for it to become crystalline again.

Big mistake. As soon as the rift regained its previous form, more beams of light shot out onto the ground and she found herself surrounded in a circle by half a dozen shades.

 _Shit!_ She immediately unsheathed her short sword and brought up her shield, but there was no way she could successfully guard herself against _six_ shades. For crying out loud, six! If this really was another world, then her bad luck from the previous world seemed to have followed through.

An arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into the head of one shade, knocking down that number to five. Ahnnie looked up to see where it came from and found herself looking at one of the archers on the walls. He nodded to her, and his partner loosed another arrow; it didn't immediately kill a shade, but managed to injure it in the shoulder.

Enraged, that shade turned away to see who or what had struck it. In the meantime, the other four shades advanced on her. She backed away slowly, her shield raised before her and her sword pointed out at the demons. Arrows flew in the meantime towards the shades, striking all over their backs and sides. As they all turned in quick succession to face their invisible assailants, Ahnnie launched herself at the closest one and traced criss-cross patterns on its back with the tip of her sword. The demon whirled around to strike her, but as it left its chest open with its arms poised, she sunk the killing blow deep into its heart.

Ahnnie yanked the sword from the chest and was able to free her weapon after three such jerks. She quickly looked up to see another shade just a foot away from her face...and then a soldier's sword cut through it from behind, impaling the monster. "Are you hurt?" the soldier asked her when the demon fell away.

Ahnnie shook her head wordlessly.

"Good!" The soldier went to work on the next shade, a colleague hacking away at the last one. "Lady Cassandra ordered us to fight the demons while you take care of the rift!"

She nodded. "Right. The rift." She turned to face it again, but then paused and turned back. "Thanks, by the way!"

The soldier's face was hidden by a helmet, so she was unable to tell his expression or if he even heard her thanks. She felt better about herself, however, and turned back to the rift more heartened than she'd previously been. It felt good to have someone at her back, to know that there were others to come to her aid when she needed it. It was especially necessary with something like that ginormous demon stomping around the crater.

 _Please work this time,_ she prayed as she let loose another beam. If the first disruption yielded six shades, she was unwilling to think of what a second would bring.

Nothing this time, although Ahnnie was displeased to find that the rift _still_ wasn't closed. _If it's the key rift though, like Solas said, perhaps that makes sense._ She wished it weren't so and once again couldn't help cursing her horrible luck. It was made all the worse when she felt a booming tremor pass beneath the earth at her feet and turned to find the horned demon kneeling six feet away from her, having completed a circuit of the crater.

The girl jumped back in shock, readying her sword. Leliana came up to her with a restraining hand on her sword arm, though.

"Keep your focus on the rift," the hooded woman said, and Ahnnie felt herself relax upon hearing the musical tones of her soothing voice. "Only fight when necessary. The sooner you can close the rift, the less enemies we'll face."

"Okay," she nodded.

"But what happened to your armor?" Leliana asked with a frown. "I saw you with it a moment ago."

"I, uh...took it off..."

Ahnnie braced herself for a reprimand, but none came when the demon rose to its feet. Its hide was scored with countless strikes, but it still seemed as strong as ever, releasing an echoing bellow as it stretched to full height. Leliana nocked an arrow to her bow and let loose on the horned monster. "Focus on the rift!" she reminded the girl, and Ahnnie ducked behind her to get back to the floating green crystal that had reassembled itself once again. She thrust her left hand at the rift, her fingers benumbed by the frequent attempts she'd made.

The rift burst for a third time, leveling the demon to its knees again. Ahnnie sighed, supposing that the magic rule of threes did not apply to rifts. The crystal did seem different, however – it seemed more fragile, susceptible to cracks. Maybe that meant something. She could only hope.

The crystal reshaped itself and three shades jumped out from the beams that hit the ground. They were scattered, however, making them easier targets. None of them appeared near Ahnnie, but the giant demon was, and she was directly in its path. The ground shook with every step and the electrical crackles were too close for comfort.

She ducked out of the way and shut her hands over her ears as it let loose a whip of electricity. She pressed her hands even harder when she heard the whip hit a man and electrocute him, fighting to keep his gargled cries from reaching her ears.

When it was over, she got up and jogged in the opposite direction. She ignored the pain in her toe, actually welcoming it instead, and stopped a moment later when she felt she was of sufficient distance from the demon. She raised her marked hand again, her palm feeling absolutely sore by now, but ignored it and pressed forward. She was thrown back when the rift exploded, and allowed herself a moment of rest on her bottom as she tried to rub the ache out of her hand.

 _Four times,_ she counted. _I did it four times._ She looked across at the demon the others were fighting and saw it kneeling yet again. To be sure, she looked up at the rift and saw it in the midst of rearranging itself. _And now, I'm going to do it for a fifth time._ She had a hunch this disruption would be the last, though; the crystal was smaller and appeared to be more brittle.

A shade screamed behind her and she rolled away in the nick of time to dodge its claws. Her scarf was pinned by a claw, though, and threatened to choke her if she did not slip it over her head. When she pulled away, her neck was laid bare to the chill air around her, but she preferred that to whatever fatal wound she would have suffered beneath the shade's sharp nails. She scrambled to her feet and unsheathed her weapon again, bracing herself for the next attack.

The shade struck again and hit her wooden shield. Ahnnie swiped at it beneath its arm and was thrown back when the creature attacked with a renewed vigor. She kept to her feet as best as she could and punched with her shield in an attempt to push back at the shade; the wood connected with a large _thump_ and splintered on the shade's teeth. She lashed out with another swing, slashing deep into its belly. It retaliated with a forceful blow that nearly sent her rocking back. Meanwhile, the rift lay open, waiting for her to close it once and for all.

"Damn you!" she screamed in frustration at the shade. She was close, so _close,_ and it just had to be there! Just like everything else in her life: things were going perfectly fine, absolutely _fine_ , and then something jumped in the way. She wondered why her mark wasn't useful in blasting these creatures into oblivion as she maintained her assault, pushing against the resistance the demon offered. "Why – the – fuck – can't you – just – _stay – out – of the – way!_ "

For all her bravado, the demon still kept its stance. Ahnnie gasped when a claw dug through her side and retaliated with angry hacks at its arm while its nails were still in her flesh. After the third strike, the arm was lopped clean off, flying uselessly to the ground. The demon roared and swiped with its remaining arm; without the balance of the other one, though, it swerved unsteadily as Ahnnie ducked and was finally rid of it with a stab in the chest.

The girl hissed as hot blood poured down her side. This wound definitely cut deeper than her previous one; she could feel it. She let the sword fall along with the demon and limped up to the rift, doubling over as she did so and yet still trying to keep up her speed, however slow it was. The rift was _right there_. So close. If anything stood in the way again...she just didn't know how she'd be able to get herself out of another altercation. To her far right, the fighting with the horned demon was still taking place. It looked as though her path was clear.

With an effort, she raised her palm towards the rift. It took a while, and her arm shook as she did so, but the mark generated the beam and connected her once more to the strange green abomination in the air.

 _I wonder if that thing that appeared in the backyard was a rift?_ she couldn't help but think as her mind began to blur. _Did that man – the youngest son of Ban? Did she say Ban? Tre-vel-eeyun – did he come out of it into my world? Or did demons rush through?_

It was taking so long. The rift felt so fragile, but still the seconds passed and it did not close! The beam continued pouring from her, seemingly sapping at her energy as well as whatever magic Solas said she had. Black hair blew in front of her eyes and she brushed it away lazily, her coordination faltering.

 _I didn't close the door,_ she remembered. _If demons exited, I forgot to close the door...I think that's better than letting the dogs face them alone, though. Maybe the door was closed after that._ She liked to think so. _Hopefully, those demons are too stupid to go up the stairs. Ti_ _ê_ _n –_ her younger sister – _should've called the cops..._ _Keep those ugly things from entering the house..._

Finally, the rift was beginning to crack. This first crack led to a second, and a third, and the crystal began to fall in on itself. Ahnnie was sure with a grim certainty that this was it; this was the end, at least for the rift. In as little as thirty seconds it would soon be over.

She lacked even the strength to yell as an explosion bigger than the ones she'd faced, shaking the temple ruins down to their very bones, blew her off her feet and threw her roughly on the stone floor. Funny how the pain never came. As a powerful gust and a burst of white light brushed over the valley, she felt it all as though in a hazy dream, the colors all drifty and wisplike. People yelled and something crashed, and then she gave in to the fatigue and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think it made sense for them to give the prisoner a choice on how to approach the Temple, so I just let Cassandra decide :P. Also now that the action is over, we can move onto Haven and more culture talk!


	5. Haven

_Am I in grandma’s house?_

Ahnnie sniffed the air as she burrowed deeper into her pillows and blankets. A warm orange glow pulsated behind her closed eyelids and a soft, smoky smell tickled the edge of her nose. _Someone’s burning incense,_ she thought, and images of gilded gods and long-dead ancestors atop an altar flashed briefly through her mind. They slowly faded into nothing as she let herself sink back into blissful oblivion.

Two dreams later, she cracked open her eyes and frowned. _But wait – I don’t go to grandma’s house anymore. I don’t remember these blankets, either..._

The smoke’s scent transformed itself as the realization sank in, becoming the tang of burning wood and not the sweet musk of incense. Ahnnie blinked and rose her head, glaring uncertainly at the wooden wall and bookshelf directly across from her.

_Crash!_

“Oh!” someone gasped.

Ahnnie turned her head towards the noise and found herself staring at a skinny girl; elven, she noticed when she saw the ears. She looked absolutely mortified, and with the way her arms were open about her, Ahnnie guessed that she’d just dropped something. That would explain the crashing sound.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear,” the girl apologized, her voice quivering. When Ahnnie started to rise, she took a step back, as if the drowsy human before her would suddenly leap out and swallow her whole.

 _Why is she so afraid?_ Ahnnie wondered. Rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes, she brushed unkempt hair out of her face and said, “It’s okay...but, um, where am I?”

She was shocked out of her sleepiness a moment later when the elven girl fell on all fours and prostrated herself. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing,” she trembled. “I am but a humble servant.”

“I...I forgive you?”

“You’re back in Haven, my lady,” she continued. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

 _So it wasn’t a nightmare,_ Ahnnie thought. _I’m still stuck in this place with monsters and Breaches..._ But wow. Three days? How did she manage to sleep that long?

When her left hand came up to wipe some more at her eyes, she saw the green mark for herself and noticed that it had grown to garish proportions, almost threatening to spill off the corners of her hand, but no longer flared – instead, it glowed with a steady green light. And then she remembered the Breach.

“I stopped the Breach!” Ahnnie cried in delight. “I mean, I closed the first rift!” she corrected herself. “And you say it stopped the Breach’s growth?”

“Y-yes...”

Relief had never felt any sweeter. “What now?” she asked the girl excitedly.

“Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve awakened,” the elven girl began. “She said ‘at once’!”

Ahnnie threw off the blankets and touched her sock-covered feet to the ground; cold stone chilled her toes even through the woolen fabric. “Where is she?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’, she said!”

 _Chancellor..._ and then Ahnnie remembered Chancellor Roderick. _Oh._ That took some of the wind out of her sails. “What’s a Chantry?” she asked a moment later, but her question lay unanswered when a door was shut and Ahnnie looked up to see that the elven girl had run out, leaving behind the box she’d dropped.

_O...kay...I’ll just figure it out for myself, then._

She rose to her feet and winced a little at an uncomfortable pressure in her left foot. It wasn’t as painful as before, though; on the contrary, it felt as though the damned toe was finally healing. Ahnnie wiggled her toes and found that the pinky and fourth toe felt like they were still buddy-bound. Also, Cassandra’s makeshift padding was gone. That was good, although she wondered if whoever brought her to this place bothered changing the gauze or left it as it was?

Speaking of this place, it looked like a tiny one-room cabin constructed with wooden planks. A hearty fire roared directly to the left of the bed, and a desk and chair with papers littered over it sat by the wall on the other side. She hobbled curiously to the desk, but was sidetracked by a chest hiding in a nook between the side of the fireplace and the wall. With a flip of the latches, she opened the chest to reveal two sets of folded clothes, her orthopaedic shoe, and lengths of bandage wrapping.

 _They kept this,_ she thought incredulously as she touched the shoe. Moving onto the clothes, she realized that her pajamas were there, too. She doubted she could wear them, though; they were made of light cotton fabric, unsuitable for the harsh winter climate of... _Haven, is what that girl said._ For while there was a fire and small torches in sconces throughout the cabin, Ahnnie could still feel the chill through the stones at her feet. The air was warmer thanks to the flames, but it simply wasn’t enough to wear something like her pajamas.

The next pile of clothes was something more akin to the tunic and breeches she’d worn three days ago, only this time it came along with a rustic fur coat and cap. She grabbed these and made to move back to the bed, but then remembered the desk.

 _I hope these aren’t important,_ she thought as she reached for one of the papers. When her eyes scanned the words, however, she was disappointed, and maybe even a little confused, to find that she couldn’t read them. They were in another alphabet entirely...like the Norse runes she’d seen in several books back home, with some different shapes.

She set the paper back down and hobbled to her bed to change her clothes. And yet before she could do so, her bladder was assaulted with an uncomfortable pressure that made her press her knees together to keep it from exploding.

 _Crap. I’ve been asleep for three days – of_ course _I need to pee!_

She frantically looked for a door that might seem like it led to the bathroom. Nope, there was only one door, and it looked like it led outside. Did they have bathrooms outdoors? Oh, how could they do this to her?

And then she spotted it: the chamber pot.

_No. Just, no._

She wasn’t ignorant. She knew her history. She _loved_ history. All her life, she devoured books on history, culture, and civilizations – she knew a chamber pot when she saw one. It was hard to dismiss it as anything else; a large ceramic hybrid between a pot and a bowl, just sitting there on the ground. Unless it was a spittoon, and considering that she had no tobacco chewing habits...or that this place had something like tobacco to chew, per her assumptions...

She finished her business quickly and put the chamber pot behind her, thinking how unfortunate the poor sap who had to clear it out must be. Was it that elven girl, by any chance? If so, Ahnnie could only muster a small amount of pity, for there was no way she was going to do it herself. The thought was revolting.

Once she was back by the bed, she slid her woolen nightshirt off and felt a binding tightness around her ribs; when she looked down, she found bandages wrapped around her latest injury. _No magic?_ she wondered as she remembered how Solas had healed her. Then she thought of how...awkward, it would be for him to do so while she was unconscious, so she let it pass. The bandages looked clean and she felt nothing from it, anyway. Then after pulling on a breast strap (the medieval equivalent to a bra, she supposed), she got herself into her new tunic and thick leggings before wrapping herself up in the fur coat.

Ahnnie found a brush on a table by the foot of her bed and worked the knots out of her hair before plopping the fur cap on top. _Nice and snug,_ she remarked. A wash basin was also on the table, so she gave her face a quick wipe and swished a bit of the water in her mouth, spitting it out onto the stone. She next grabbed a pair of boots lying nearby and put them on before she could forget. When she straightened, she felt ready for whatever lay outside.

 _It’d better not be any demons,_ she hoped jokingly as she walked to the door and pushed it open...

Quite the contrary. It was a long queue of soldiers lining the path, standing in reverent salute to her with their fists pressed over their chests, like they were doing a fisted pledge-of-allegiance to the flag. Crowds of townspeople stood behind them, murmuring amongst themselves as their eyes all turned on her.

_Uh...what?_

Ahnnie must have stood there a while with her mouth open, because the soldier closest to her walked up the steps to where she stood and saluted her. “My lady. Lady Cassandra wishes to speak with you and mentioned that your foot was hurting – would you like an escort?”

“I...where?”

“To the Chantry, my lady.”

“What is that?”

The soldier paused, as if unable to explain, and then pointed up a little ways to the left. “It’s just over there, my lady.” He proffered his arm a moment later, like a suave gentleman.

She blinked, still unable to believe what was happening. “Um, it’s okay...I can walk. My foot feels better.”

“Are you sure, my lady?”

 _Please stop calling me that._ To him, she just nodded.

“Very well.” He withdrew, but not without some hesitance.

The girl looked uncertainly at the crowd about her before making her descent. Dozens of eyes tracked her every move, and while it wasn’t in anger like last time, it was no less discomfiting. The atmosphere was so nerve-wracking that she found herself counting the steps to keep from looking at all the curious faces. _One, two, three, four, five..._ She was dismayed to find no similar distractions down the path, the people’s whispers growing too loud and obvious in her ears.

“That’s her. That’s the Herald of Andraste. They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her.”

“Why did Lady Cassandra have her in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything.”

“It’s complicated; we were all frightened after the explosion at the Chantry.”

“It isn’t complicated. Andraste herself blessed her.”

“Indeed! Her skin is of pale gold – she is clearly Andraste’s chosen!”

Ahnnie frowned.

“I’ve never seen someone like that before...”

“Ah, but she looks so young. Poor dear.”

“Maker be with you.” It took a while for her to realize that this last one was directed at her. She turned in the direction from which she heard it.

“Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!” another person called out to her.

Ahnnie turned back around, her head swimming with questions. _What are they talking about? Who is this On-drahs-tay? And didn’t they hate me three days ago?_

The path turned left and led her to a bigger stone staircase. She sighed in relief to find no soldiers flanking the stairs and made her way up, but a soldier broke from the line regardless and held her by the elbow as she ascended.

“I’m fine, really,” she kept on insisting, but he never left her side until she reached the top. She shivered as she walked as far away from him as possible. Directly overhead, accessible by another set of stairs to the left, stood a moderately sized stone building carved in ornate fashion, like a church or gilded town hall. It was the fanciest building here, at any rate; the others were just wooden cabins like her own, or measly tents.

 _The Chantry?_ she guessed. It must be so; it looked important. There were Chantry sisters and brothers standing outside it, further confirming to her the building’s identity as the ‘Chantry’. She frowned as she made her way towards it, somehow finding it familiar. She looked briefly at the impromptu camp set up in front of the building to see if Cassandra might be there, but when she didn’t see the Seeker, she continued towards the doors, recognizing them the closer she came.

_This is where I was imprisoned!_

She paused in her steps and looked back towards the town; yes, this was the view she had when Cassandra led her out! She was amazed she hadn’t realized it sooner. And now Cassandra was expecting her to return to that very building?

 _Everyone seems to like me now,_ she thought, _and the Breach stopped growing...perhaps it’s for something else? She’s wouldn’t throw me back in prison, right?_

Turning back around, Ahnnie pursed her lips tight as she came up to the door. A bright yellow sunburst with what looked like an eye in the middle was painted over the wood. She looked at it and thought of the Illuminati symbol.

A Chantry sister, recognizing her, pushed the doors open with a smile and a nod. “Go in peace, Herald of Andraste,” she said.

“Maker watch over you,” another one chimed in.

Ahnnie nodded at them. “You too,” she said in an attempt at politeness, and stepped inside.

She was immediately engulfed in a dimly lit hall, carpeted in the middle with a long rug of dark green and decorated with little clusters of candles on the floor in front of pillars that lined the hall on either side. Red wall hangings sporting the yellow sunburst peeked out from the walls between the pillars, and as the sweet scent of the candles wafted up into her nostrils, Ahnnie was struck with the sense that this was a religious building.

 _A religious building with a prison below it,_ she thought sullenly.

At the end of the hall was a door flanked by impressive stone pillars and crowned with a bigger hanging of the yellow sunburst. Ahnnie walked up to it, thinking it must be where Cassandra was waiting. She was proved wrong when she went by a similar door to her right and heard the Seeker’s muffled voice – along with the Chancellor’s – arguing from behind.

Her head went from the door at the end of the hall to this door tucked away on the right. _I thought it was...oh, whatever._ She steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation and pulled open the door.

Cassandra, Leliana, and the Chancellor were standing by a long table; Cassandra and Leliana to one side, the Chancellor to the other side. The physical gap between them was enough to tell Ahnnie that the mood was not pretty, never mind their faces. As she went past the guards standing sentinel inside the room, she felt their eyes turn sharply to her and flinched.

“Chain her,” Roderick ordered, his voice booming against the stone. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for a trial.”

The guards moved behind her and Ahnnie’s heart sank when she remembered Cassandra saying there would be a trial. _So I’m going to be imprisoned again,_ she thought. How else were they going to keep her before she would be judged?

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra negated.

The guards saluted the Seeker with that fist pledge of theirs and walked away, closing the door behind them.

Ahnnie turned to Cassandra with what must have been an obvious expression of relief and gratitude on her face. The Seeker only made brief eye contact with her before breaking it off to face the Chancellor again.

And he was not happy. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

Cassandra rounded the table to come up to him. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” she said, challenging him with her sharp glare. “I will _not_ ignore it.”

Chancellor Roderick did not back down, meeting her gaze with an equally incensed one of his own.

“Um, excuse me?” Ahnnie’s timid voice cut through the tension.

They turned to her.

“If I may say something...” She focused on the wall past their faces in a semblance of looking at them, and continued, “I have no idea what’s going on. I’m not sure if you were told yet, Chancellor, but I was whisked away from my home by this green light after it tried to attack my dogs. A rift, I think. Thing is, I don’t think that this place I came _to_ is the same as the place I came _from_.” She sighed. “What I mean is...I think I’m from another world entirely.”

The Chancellor scoffed. “Preposterous,” he muttered.

“Please, listen to me,” she begged. “I know it sounds like I’m trying to make excuses, but I came out from the Fade, from another place, at that – how could I have caused the explosion?” She looked towards Leliana. “This Conclave, you must have a guest list or something for it. I don’t look like anyone who was invited to come there, right?”

Leliana frowned, shaking her head.

“In fact, I don’t look like anyone from this place at all!” She was not very sure about that yet, but pressed on with it anyway since it seemed as though the inhabitants of wherever-this-was thought she looked strange. “And this thing on my hand? I know even less of that. At least I know how I got here! But how _this_ got here–” She held up her left hand, showing them the mark. “I have absolutely no clue. And you can’t say it caused the explosion,” she quickly added before Roderick might make a connection, however erroneous it would be.

“A very... _interesting_ argument,” the Chancellor said after a while. “And yet you have little to show for it besides the fact that you were the only survivor...a convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

“You don’t have solid evidence that clearly links me to the explosion, either.”

His frown deepened. “But the Breach is still in the sky; for all we know, you intended it this way. I’m sure the Trevelyans will want to know what has become of their son as well.”

Ahnnie fought to keep her head straight. _How did he know of that? I thought only Solas, Varric, and Cassandra heard it..._ but it might have been recorded in a report somewhere made by one of the soldiers accompanying them, or Cassandra herself. Still, he wanted to pin that on her? What else would he accuse her of?

“Have a care, Chancellor,” Cassandra cut in before the girl could say something, a sharp edge in her voice. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Leliana picked up on this chance to speak. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” Her steely blue eyes cut through the Chancellor’s as she uttered this last point.

He was infuriated. “ _I_ am a suspect?” he spluttered.

“You, and many others,” Leliana confirmed.

His mousy face twisted into a scowl. “But _not_ the prisoner,” he snarled, casting an angry glare Ahnnie’s way.

“It is as she said – she does not fit the description of anyone sent to attend the Conclave.”

“So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand, and the Trevelyan’s son’s disappearance...all a coincidence?” The Chancellor sounded disgusted. “How are we to know she’s not a demon from the Fade, influencing us all?”

“Providence, Chancellor,” Cassandra argued. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Ahnnie fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable. “So...am I still a suspect, or am I innocent?”

“You were exactly what we needed, when we needed it,” Cassandra responded. “A demon would not have saved us – but you did.” She gave the girl an acknowledging nod and Ahnnie thought of her wounded side, remembering what it took to stabilize the Breach. Perhaps that, as well as the other dangers she faced that day, earned her a good impression in the Seeker’s eyes.

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it,” Leliana added.

But the Chancellor would not hear of it. “This is _not_ for you to decide,” he spat.

Cassandra, ignoring him, walked over to a table in the corner and picked something up in her hands. When she came back, she slammed a thick tome on the table in front of them and the noise made Ahnnie jump. The Seeker jabbed it with an imperious finger, challenging the Chancellor yet again with a hard stare. “You know what this is, Chancellor?” She paused to let the question sink in, before continuing, “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

The Seeker straightened up and strode confidently towards the Chancellor, forcing him back the more she spoke. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval.” When she finished, she was inches away from his face, staring down on him as though he were an inconsequential subordinate. And he was taller than her.

 _I hope I’m never at the other end of that stare,_ Ahnnie thought as she watched the Chancellor make his silent retreat. He aimed a last withering look at her, but she pretended not to notice.

Leliana came up to the book, staring reverently at its dark leather cover, framed in a silvery metal and decorated with a metallic sunburst in the middle. “The Divine’s directive,” she remarked softly. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against the chaos.” She looked up purposefully at Ahnnie. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support at our side.”

“But we have no choice,” Cassandra interjected. She, too, turned to Ahnnie. “We must act now...with you at our side.”

Though Ahnnie knew nothing of what was going on, she couldn’t help but feel that a burdensome responsibility was being placed on her shoulders. Her confusion threatened to overwhelm her; she opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. “I still have no idea what’s going on,” she said at last. “The Conclave, the Breach, templars, mages, Chantry, and now the _Inquisition_ –” That word was all the more ridiculous to her when she thought of the Spanish Inquisition. “–if someone could explain this to me, it’d be much appreciated.”

“Certainly.” And Cassandra gave her a summary that, had it been recited under normal circumstances, would have sounded like the synopsis of a movie: their world, Thedas, was split in a war between templars and mages. Mages were usually kept in towers called Circles, connected under the unifying title of Circle of Magi, and the templars were an order of knights that watched over them. This was because mages drew their power from the Fade, which made them particularly susceptible to demonic possessions that would turn them into abominations of destructive capacity, if corrupted. The war started when the mages rebelled and declared the Circle of Magi separate from the Chantry, becoming apostates; or in simpler terms, rebel mages. The Conclave was the Divine’s attempt to restore peace between the two factions, and leaders from both sides had been present. Ahnnie already knew how that ended.

As for the Chantry, it was the dominant religious organization in Thedas. The more Cassandra explained it, the more Ahnnie thought it similar to the Vatican from her world. The Chantry’s main holy text was the Chant of Light, a series of teachings written by Andraste, bride and prophet of the Maker. That seemed to be in sync with the Holy Bible and some mix of Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and God. At its head was the Divine, an authority figure not unlike the Pope, except that this religion seemed to work in reverse: Divines were predominantly women. In fact, it was more of the custom for Chantry priests to be women. Men could still hold other important roles, however, as Chancellor Roderick seemed to prove. As to how the Chantry tied in with the templars and Circle of Magi, the Templar Order was a military order of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi was – or had been – governed and monitored by the Chantry.

“Do you understand now?” Cassandra asked when she was done.

Ahnnie nodded. “But do I _have_ to...to do this?” she asked a moment later, her hand gesturing futilely at the tome on the table.

“You can go, if you wish,” Leliana said. “But while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. You are also not familiar with Thedas...so as you can see, the Inquisition can help you.”

She hadn’t necessarily been thinking of running away, more like _not_ accepting the burden of what sounded like ending a war in addition to sealing the Breach (a war, for God’s sake!), but Leliana had a point. Ahnnie would need to stay with the Inquisition, whether she liked it or not, because she couldn’t fend for herself otherwise. It sounded like an unsavory parallel to her life back home.

Cassandra suddenly came over to her and she looked up, wondering what the Seeker was going to say. “It will not be easy if you stay,” she admitted, “but you cannot pretend this has not changed you.” Well, that was true. And just as suddenly, she extended a hand towards the girl, like she was asking for a handshake. “Help us fix this...before it’s too late.”

Ahnnie stared awhile at the woman’s gloved hand. Unlike home, the Inquisition sounded like a good chance to do things free of the veil of terror she had always lived with. The people she’d met...who she’d fought beside...they were different from her mother and stepfather. They were _honorable_. But then she frowned, remembering how they had imprisoned her and how she was still at their mercy. What if things went well, only to sour later? What would she do then?

Her hand slowly slid towards Cassandra’s, and when their palms connected, the Seeker grasped it firmly and gave a single hearty shake. The gesture was supposed to be encouraging and reassuring; but as Ahnnie withdrew her hand, she prayed she would not end up worse than she was...that she would become more than she hoped, instead of fall even farther down her abyss.

* * *

 

Ahnnie attacked the food with a ravenous gusto she never thought was possible in her. The moment she had entered the Singing Maiden, situated on the western edge of Haven, her stomach grumbled when the smell of hot food hit her in the face like a rushing wall. As Varric led her over to an empty table for two, her knees weakened as she remembered she hadn't eaten ever since she came to this world; er, _Thedas_. Perhaps whoever had been tending to her while she was still unconscious nourished her with broth, but it was hardly the sustenance her stomach was growling for now.

She was amply rewarded when a serving girl laid out a nice, big bowl of mutton stew and a roll of hardened bread in front of her. For drink, she stated that water was good, and kept it close at hand. As for Varric, he had been content with simply a mug of ale – when she asked him if he was hungry, he shook his head and said he'd already eaten.

“Hey, slow down,” he chuckled as she shoveled spoonfuls of stew into her mouth. “You don’t want them saying the Herald saved Haven only to choke on a piece of mutton, do you?”

She heaved a giggle through her full mouth, swallowed, and rinsed it down with some water.

Varric grinned. “That’s what I thought.” A moment later, his smile straightened, and he sighed. “So...now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

Ahnnie ate another spoonful of stew before replying. “I don’t really know. I now know why there was a Conclave and what a Chantry is, but...” She frowned. “I don’t really think I have a choice.”

“Sure you do.”

“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “I guess I should just be glad I’m still alive.”

Varric chuckled again. “I still can’t believe you survived _Cassandra_. And you even threatened legal action against her! You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.”

Ahnnie blushed as she remembered her ‘threat’. “Eheh,” she chuckled nervously.

“‘Course, she wasn’t angry at _you_.” Varric took a swig at his ale and gave a breathy sigh of satisfaction when he set down the mug. “But what I would’ve given to witness that moment.” He shook his head, as if he had missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

 _It was scary,_ Ahnnie thought, remembering the expression on the Seeker’s face. She pushed it away with more spoonfuls of stew interspersed with dips of the bread, and when the bowl was almost empty, she stopped using her spoon to sop it all up with the bread instead. “So, Varric,” she began, one side of her mouth chewing the stew soaked bread, “you’re not a prisoner anymore, right? What were you a prisoner for, anyway?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I'm a free man now. As for my crime..." He chuckled. "Cassandra wanted to know a little something about a good friend of mine. Thought he'd be useful to the Divine for the Conclave, but that's not important now," he dismissed with a wave. "At least, not anymore."

"Oh." She took some time to digest the information before asking, "Does this mean you'll be leaving?"

The dwarf arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that a hint of sadness I hear?” he teased, a smile cracking on his face.

Ahnnie gave a helpless shrug. “Well, I just...I mean...that’s what you would do, right? Now that you’re free to go.” _That’s what I would’ve done, if I were able to._ At the same time, she was loathe to see him leave – he was the warmest person she’d met since coming to Thedas. The moments when he inquired after her during their trek to the Breach did not go unforgotten. Plus, his jokes were funny. If she was going to go through with this new responsibility of hers, she would love it if someone like him were close by.

He studied her a moment, a hand absentmindedly swirling the ale around in the mug. Then, he said, “I like to think I’m as selfish as the next guy–”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying you were selfish,” Ahnnie quickly apologized.

Varric waved it away lightheartedly. “Hey, no offense taken. But anyways, thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky; even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

Ahnnie nodded, hiding her embarrassed face by taking a drink from her cup. _I suppose he’s right,_ she thought. Despite that, she wished she didn’t have to be burdened by this sudden new duty. She wished...damn, she didn’t even know what she wished for. Did she wish the light in the backyard had not tried to harm her dogs? That it would’ve gone and left her to live as she’d always been? Or that she could come to this world...but live in it without a care to anyone else? A perfect escapist dream.

_Nonsense! I want to go home...right?_

The stirring of a stringed instrument suddenly tinkled in the air; Ahnnie looked up and saw a dark haired woman taking up a stool by the fireplace, a lute held skillfully in her arms. She played a little melody before opening her mouth to sing a song, a song so soft and light it was like a lullaby:

 

“ _Once we were_

_In our peace_

_With our lives, assured,_

 

_Once we were_

_Not afraid of the dark._

 

_Once sat_

_In our kingdom_

_With hope and pride,_

 

_Once we ran_

_Through the fields with great stride._ ”

 

The woman’s voice flowed perfectly between the notes, rising and falling in accurate timing to the rhythm. Her song filled Ahnnie with a sense of nostalgia for better times.

 

“ _We held the Fade_

_And the demon’s flight_

_So far from our children_

_And our lives._

 

_We held together_

_The fragile sky_

_To keep our way of life._

 

_Once we raised_

_Up our chalice_

_In victory,_

 

_Once we sat_

_in the light of our dreams._

 

_Once we were_

_In our homeland_

_With strength and might,_

 

_Once we were_

_Not afraid of the night..._ ”

 

Ahnnie did not miss the references to the Breach. ‘The Fade’, ‘demon’s flight’, ‘fragile sky’ – even if they weren’t originally meant for the song, they were too hard to dismiss, especially in this time. The Breach may have been stabilized, but Ahnnie still saw green lights in the clouds where it was supposed to be. Cassandra and Leliana very prudently repeated this fact back at the Chantry, as well.

Varric noticed the morose expression in her eyes and turned to the singer. “Maryden, are you trying to sing us to sleep, or what? Here’s a coin for ‘ _Andraste’s Mabari_ ’. Keep it lively, y’hear?”

A shimmering object was flicked from the dwarf over to the bard, who caught it in a deft fist. “Whatever you say, Master Tethras,” Maryden winked, and started up her lute again in a more plucky tune.

Ahnnie listened to the first stanza (quite a humorous one about a dog, as she found out a few lines in) before turning to Varric with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Always happy to help,” he said as he raised his mug and drank again.

Ahnnie also drank from her cup, and was suddenly aware of a group of patrons joking about something from the table behind her. She would not have paid attention had they not said ‘Herald of Andraste’, the moniker she’d come to know as her new title amongst the people. It sounded as if they were joking _to_ someone rather than about her, though; Chancellor Roderick was the only person who still despised her, so that was unlikely. Curious, she turned her head slightly in that direction, wondering what the fuss was all about.

She found herself facing a wide-eyed little girl, no older than six, who jolted when their eyes met.

The patrons laughed at child’s skittishness, although it was in a more affectionate tease than a derisive mirth. Varric peered over Ahnnie's shoulder to see what was going on and raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve got a fan,” he remarked.

Ahnnie opened her mouth to say something, shut it when she was unable to think of anything, and turned to the little girl. “Hi there,” she greeted. “What’s your name?”

The child shyly brushed away a messy lock of light brown hair. “Netta,” she murmured, her blue eyes twinkling with a mix of awe, disbelief, and delight.

“What a pretty name,” Ahnnie smiled. “How old are you, Netta?”

“Five.”

“Five! Wow, what a big girl you are!”

Bolstered by Ahnnie’s friendliness, Netta smiled back and slowly stepped towards her. “Is it true?” she then asked.

“Is what true?” Ahnnie asked back.

“That you’re made of gold?”

She could hear Varric stifling a laugh behind his mug of ale. Before she could debunk this myth, however, the dwarf was leaning over to the child with a mischievous grin on his face. “Oh, not just that; her eyes are of the finest Antivan glass, her teeth of the whitest pearls from the Waking Sea, and her nails the thinnest films of Nevarran crystals you’ve ever seen.”

Netta’s eyes sparkled with an even greater amazement and she gave a gasp of awe when she turned back to look at Ahnnie.

“N-no, he’s just joking!” she quickly deflected. “I’m just a regular human. Like you.” When the child didn’t seem to believe her, she held out a hand – the unmarked one – for her to touch. Netta brushed it lightly with her small fingers, as if afraid that Ahnnie would crumble if she poked too roughly.

“Oh, Netta!” A short haired woman came up to the table, hands on her hips. “You know better than to bother our guests. And the Herald of Andraste, at that!”

Ahnnie shook her head. “Oh no, she wasn’t a bother. And, um, my name is Ahnnie. Not Herald of–”

“C’mon, live a little,” Varric teased with a fist to her arm. “The people love you now! Save the modesty for later.”

Ahnnie blushed, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. “That’s...”

The short haired woman chuckled. “There’s no denying what you’ve done for us all – but if you insist. I’m Flissa, the innkeeper. I trust you and Master Tethras have had an enjoyable time? Netta wasn’t too much of a nuisance?”

“You can’t blame the little tyke,” Varric put in. “By the day’s end, she’ll be hearing about how the Herald single-handedly brought down two terror demons and a giant pride demon, _and_ saved an entire troop of soldiers on the mountain pass in one fell swoop.”

Ahnnie stared at him in open-mouthed shock. “I did _not_ do all that!”

Varric shrugged. “But that’s what people will say. Or have said; they’re probably a step ahead of me on that point. Ever heard of legends where you come from? How else d’you think they come into existence?”

She shook her head with an exasperated sigh, to which Flissa chuckled again. “We’re doing good,” she said at last to the innkeeper. “The food was delicious; the best I’ve ever eaten in my life.” Probably because she was so hungry, but there was no denying that it was truly good.

“Osbert will be glad to hear that,” Flissa remarked with a nod. “You’ve him to thank for your meal.” Turning to Netta, she said, “Run along now. Old Osbert’s got some scraps you can go give to Lady; it’s her suppertime, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mama!” And just like that, Netta rushed out of view, ducking past the counter and into the kitchens.

Ahnnie watched her fondly, a tiny smile crinkling the edges of her eyes. “Your daughter’s so adorable,” she said to Flissa.

“Ah.” Flissa shook her head. “She’s not mine. I adopted her.”

“Oh.”

“Her parents were lost in the Mage-Templar war a year back. She was brought here by relatives fleeing the chaos...they died as well some months ago from disease, so I took her in. Hasn’t stopped calling me ‘mama’ ever since.”

Ahnnie grew quiet, wondering what that experience must have been like for the child.

“These are troubling times,” Varric remarked.

“Indeed,” Flissa agreed. She heaved a sigh, as if to release the sadness, and perked up a moment later. “Well, I shan’t bother you any longer; is there anything you might need? More ale for you, Master Tethras?” She hailed a serving maid over when he nodded and turned back to them. “Don’t worry about this; it’s on the house.”

“Nah, c’mon, Flissa – you know I can’t do that,” Varric protested.

“No, no, I insist. For the Herald; er, Ahnnie.” She smiled at the girl, who quickly balked.

“I’m sor–”

But Flissa cut her off with two fingers towards her lower face. “You needn’t apologize. It’s an honor.”

And so the verbal tug-of-war between innkeeper, dwarf, and flustered girl commenced. Apparently, it was so humorous that some of the other patrons stopped in their merrymaking to watch it unfold, though perhaps it was more out of curiosity about the dwarf and the girl than any of the negotiations. In the end, Flissa got to treat them, Varric was able to pay for his second round of ale, and Ahnnie was left promising she’d somehow pay it all back...even though she was technically broke.

In the midst of the pandemonium, they did not notice little Netta scurrying out of the kitchen and up to their table, a bowl of scraps in her hands. Ahnnie was only alerted to her presence when she felt a gentle tug on her coat, and turned to look.

“Would you like to come feed Lady with me?” Netta asked her sweetly.

“Oh, for Andraste’s sake – Netta!” Flissa chided. To Ahnnie, she apologized, “I’m sorry about this. Lady’s a dog we took in some time ago. Netta shows her off every chance she gets, but this is the first time she’s asked anyone to help feed her.”

Ahnnie waved the matter away. “It’s all right. I like dogs. If you don’t mind, Varric?”

The dwarf shook his head. “Who am I to stop the Herald of Andraste?”

The only quip she had to that was an exasperated look before she rose from her chair to follow the little girl. “I’ll be quick,” she assured Varric, and was led across the tavern towards a side door, which she held open for Netta in consideration of her full hands. She was aware of the stares that followed her as she went by, but placed her focus on Netta instead. They were out in the cold for a brief moment before entering a small stable, dimly lit by a lantern hanging on the wall. Ahnnie almost choked on the overwhelming scent of horse and breathed through her mouth instead.

An older man whom she guessed was the ostler made to greet Netta with a smile, but paused with widened eyes when he saw the black haired girl behind her. Luckily, he made no fuss about the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and they were left in peace to enter a stall on the far left. There was no need to open the stall door, for it was already opened, and revealed a medium-sized brown dog lying in the center of the straw, breed unknown.

 _A mutt, maybe?_ Ahnnie thought as she watched the dog stand up to greet Netta enthusiastically. The dog, or Lady, looked like one to her, but Thedas being a different world, one could never be too certain.

Lady greeted Ahnnie next, and she couldn’t help but smile as she scratched behind those floppy brown ears. Ah, dogs; their bright, innocent eyes never failed to charm her. A second later, Lady was down on her back, exposing her belly for a rub, and Ahnnie happily reciprocated.

“Silly Lady!” Netta giggled. “It’s time to eat now!”

As if on cue, Lady rolled up and stared longingly at the bowl, whining softly. The little girl set the bowl in front of her head and backed away as the dog tucked in, a little hand placed on Ahnnie’s arm to indicate that she should do the same.

“Mama says you must never stand too close to a dog when it’s eating,” Netta warned.

 _Smart kid,_ Ahnnie thought. _Although it would be better for her if Lady was trained against food aggression._ She decided to make a mental note of that, to see if she could help in some way later. She had experience in that regard. Almost immediately, she remembered Bilbo. _Man, was he a tough cookie!_ Akitas – American Akitas, specifically – were known for being protective over their food. When Bilbo was discovering solid food for the first time, he displayed the expected tendencies: stiff postures, bared teeth, throaty growls.

While she had never been able to train him out of food aggression between other dogs, she was able to break him out of that habit with humans (or at least, the humans that fed him). She not only managed to sit close to him while he ate, but also touch his food and even yank it away without complaint. But that was a young puppy; Lady looked like a full grown dog. It might take time for her to come to that point, or even not at all. _But if I can make her simply_ more _accepting than she is right now..._

The more she thought of it, the more Bilbo’s furry face popped up in her mind. Then she thought of how far away she was from him, and her heart clenched. _I’d hoped I could still visit him since Tennessee isn’t far from Georgia. But now...I don’t even have his parents nearby to comfort me..._

“Do you like dogs?” Netta’s little voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Ahnnie turned to her, smiling. “Yes – in fact, I _love_ them. They’re my favorite animal.”

Netta giggled. “Mine, too!”

“Really? I guess we have something in common, then.”

The expression on Netta’s face indicated to Ahnnie that the little girl was on cloud nine. “Do you have a dog, too?” she squealed a moment later, barely unable to contain her excitement. When Ahnnie nodded, she looked about ready to burst with joy.

“I have two,” Ahnnie then said, her voice trembling a little from trying to contain an amused chuckle. “Big dogs.” She indicated their height with her hand, which made Netta gasp because it meant those dogs’ heads reached well up to the little girl’s chest. “A female and a male, Cixi and Cao-Cao.”

“ _Suh-shee_ and _Cow-cow_?” Netta giggled. “What silly names!”

“Well, did you know those’re the names of a famous empress and warlord where I come from?”

Netta giggled even harder, but Ahnnie couldn’t blame her.

“Cixi was dowager empress of China in the nineteenth century,” Ahnnie went on. “Cao-Cao”–although she had to admit, her pronunciation of his name was wrong. It was actually _Tsao-tsao,_ but her family stuck with a hard ‘ck’ pronunciation that little Netta twisted as a soft ‘c’–“was warlord and Chancellor of the Eastern Han Dynasty in the two-hundreds.”

It didn’t surprise her that the little girl had no clue of what she was talking about, but before any further questions could be asked, Lady stepped back from the bowl and allowed Netta to pick it up. Ahnnie straightened up accordingly, giving Lady one last pat on the head before following Netta back into the tavern. As the snow fell, she released a breathy sigh of vapor and closed her eyes for a moment. _Cixi, Cao-Cao, Bilbo...god, do I miss you guys._ Seeing Lady reminded her so much of them, even though they were different types of dogs altogether. The eyes were the culprit. They were round, and deep, and dark...just like her dogs’. It was ironic how she’d been through the Fade and fought demons, and yet the things that should haunt her most were Lady’s big saucer eyes.

When they came back inside, Netta was called away by Flissa to keep her out of the way. The innkeeper also mentioned it was nearing the child’s bedtime, but Ahnnie suspected it was still because she was afraid of imposing on the ‘Herald’s’ time. Ahnnie sat back down with Varric anyway and his lively banter cheered her up, making her forget that gnawing sadness for a moment. He told her stories of what sounded like his own previous adventures, but they sounded so outlandish that even she, with what she’d been through, had a hard time believing them. Still, it was all in good fun. She retired to the one-room cabin that night, her belly full and her limbs warmed by the bright fire – freshly stoked, she’d noticed. But she spent a better part of the night lying awake, thinking. It was only until her eyelids grew so heavy they closed on their own, without her even knowing, that she was able to get some rest.


	6. Questions and Answers

“Almost done. Just a bit more, my lady.” A second later, the new bandage was tied firmly to her ribcage. “There we go.” The elven girl drew back with a smile of accomplishment and Ahnnie let her shirt down.

“Observations of the wound?” Adan the healer asked; he sat at the desk with his back to the girls, scribbling away at a piece of parchment.

“Clean, Master Adan,” the elven girl reported. “The elfroot poultice is working wonderfully. I shouldn’t give this wound any more than another week.”

Adan nodded. “And you, lady Herald? How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly fine,” Ahnnie replied. “A little sore in the back, but I’m okay. No fevers, sore throats, fatigue...nothing.”

The healer nodded again. “That sounds very promising.” When he finished writing, he rose his head and turned to look at Ahnnie. “I was almost afraid you wouldn’t make it, my lady. You were clammy to the touch and thrashing constantly in your sleep...Blessed be the Maker for your swift recovery.”

She smiled. “It’s because I had a competent healer like you at my side. So, thank you, for all that you’ve done.”

“Ah, but it is the Maker’s will that I should have succeeded. More people have expired under lesser circumstances.”

“...I suppose.”

Adan turned back to write some more, and when he finished, he rose to his feet and indicated for the elven girl to follow him. “That should be all for today, my lady. I would advise you to stay off your feet to aid in the healing process of your toe, as well as to avoid catching unwanted chills. The weather is particularly harsh this morning.”

Ahnnie had been aware of a snowstorm blowing through the town in the early hours of the morning; a while after she’d fallen asleep, she was awakened again by the fierce howling wind and an even fiercer chill that whistled through the wood. It had already stopped by the time Adan and his assistant came, though, so she saw no harm in venturing out. Besides, she wanted to talk to Cassandra about something.

“I will be out for just a bit,” she assured the healer. “I only have a few questions I need to ask Lady Cassandra.”

Almost immediately, Adan’s face soured. “Oh, but my lady...”

“I’m really sorry. It’s just for a few minutes,” she assured him.

The man sighed, shaking his head. “I cannot stop you if that is what you wish...” And then he muttered something under his breath about patients who didn’t listen. Ahnnie could only smile sheepishly in return because she had no intentions of conforming to bed rest, not when she felt so restless.

She supposed, however, that she shouldn’t overdo it and give him more ails to cure. “Just this once. I’ll stay here for the rest of the day, after that.”

Adan nodded and opened the door, stepping outside. Before his elven assistant could leave, though, Ahnnie rose from her seat on the edge of the bed and tapped the girl’s shoulder.

“O-oh!” She whirled around skittishly, staring frightfully at Ahnnie. “Yes, my lady?”

“Please, just call me by my name,” Ahnnie sighed. The elven girl already knew it by now; she had it given to her when she and Adan first stepped into the cabin, but refused to use it. “And, if I may ask; what’s yours?”

“M-my lady wishes to know my name?”

“Yes.”

“Well, hurry it up,” Adan scolded.

The elven girl spluttered a few more times before blurting, “Nala. ‘Tis my name: Nala.”

Ahnnie smiled. “Nice to meet you, Nala. And thank you, too, for all that you’ve done.”

Nala was taken aback, staring frozenly at Ahnnie. Then she slowly warmed to life and gave an incredulous smile. “I-it was nothing, my lady! I’m only glad that you’re feeling better!” She held the door open for Ahnnie, who quickly protested, but would not have it and only released the door when the human girl stepped through. And then Nala quickly sped after Adan, though not without an enthusiastic look back at the ‘Herald of Andraste’.

 _So much for trying to be familiar,_ Ahnnie sighed. She ensured the door was completely closed before making her way up to the Chantry, thinking of how to broach the subject with Cassandra. _Or maybe I should ask Leliana? She looks like she can handle longer explanations. I’m still so confused..._

She perked up a second later upon seeing a crowd gathered in front of the church. They were huddled around the door, murmuring avidly about something. Ahnnie slowly hobbled forward but as soon as she reached the fringe of the crowd, Chancellor Roderick burst through, an uneasy look on his face.

He froze upon seeing her, and she did the same. Before his expression could have the chance to harden, she stammered, “Ah, g-good morning, Chancellor...”

It was as if she had insulted him rather than greeted him. His brows furrowed disapprovingly and he whipped his head in another direction. “Hmph!” He stormed off, sparing not even a single word. The way he did it, she might as well have been an actual demon come to plague them all.

Ahnnie shook her head, trying not to let that bother her, and pushed through all the people to see what the fuss was about. She was glad they were too engrossed in something else to recognize her; she was growing sick of the special treatment by now. To be extra careful, she rolled up her hair and tucked it all under her cap. Yes, she was Asian, and no one here had seen an Asian before, but surely under regular conditions without any clear identifiers, she was not that noticeable? When she reached the Chantry doors, she saw nothing different other than a crookedly nailed notice with a strange eye symbol and red ribbons pinned on it. It was an official-looking notice, but she couldn’t read what it said. She fidgeted uncomfortably from side to side, not only desiring to know what it meant, but also to reach out and adjust it. _A little more to the right, and it’d be perfect._

“The Inquisition has been reinstated,” someone murmured to her left.

“What does that mean for the Chantry?”

“I wonder...”

Ahnnie almost turned to them to ask them what they knew of the matter. She stopped, however, when she considered that they might recognize her face. Instead, she ducked out of the crowd and made for the camp, where she happened to spot Cassandra. “Oh, hey, Cassand – er, Lady Cassandra!”

The Seeker paused in what she was doing and turned to her. “Herald of Andraste,” she greeted formally.

Ahnnie mentally groaned as she reminded someone to call her by her name for the hundredth time. “Do you have a moment?” she then asked. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about Thedas.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I am sorry. I have much to attend to this day. Unless you’ve noticed, we have been putting up official announcements of the Inquisition over Haven this morning.”

“Oh...yeah, I saw one on the Chantry.”

“Perhaps you can ask the hedge mage, Solas. He is down on that side.” She pointed out the direction and turned back to her business, which was supervising a group of soldiers in their training.

 _Hedge mage?_ Ahnnie suddenly imagined the bald elf using his magic to trim hedges, whistling happily under the sun as he waved his staff over unkempt bushes. But she bothered Cassandra no longer and walked down to the second tier of Haven where the Seeker indicated, letting down her hair as she went. There were few people where she was going, so there wasn’t much fear of recognition. Sure enough, Solas stood alone by a cabin, watching the sky with his staff at his side. Some people were nearby but they avoided him, occasionally casting suspicious glances his way. She wondered why until she remembered that mages outside of Circles were considered suspicious by most.

“The Chosen of Andraste,” he murmured as she approached, and turned to look at her. “A blessed hero sent to save us all.”

“Not you too,” she groaned.

Solas chuckled. “I take it you’re not pleased with your new epithets?”

“No.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Ahnnie twiddled her thumbs, wondering if this was the right thing to talk about with Solas. He seemed patient, though, and even studious. At least, that was the impression he gave to her. “I want to know more about Thedas.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah...Cassandra gave me a summary of the war that’s going on and the circumstances of the Conclave, but I _still_ don’t know anything about this world.”

“And that bothers you,” Solas inferred.

“Exactly! I find myself thinking, ‘ _What country am I in?_ ’, and ‘ _What customs am I breaking?_ ’ I thought worrying about what I was getting into was bad enough; now I’m sweating the details. Of course, I’m still worried about what I’m supposed to do,” she added, “but I thought I should at least know _something_ of this place I’ve fallen into.”

With a small smile, he beckoned her over to a set of flat boulders situated behind a low stone wall. Using his staff to control the snow, he flicked off enough of the powdery white substance to clear a seating area for two. After claiming his spot, he pat the stone beside him gently, and Ahnnie took it up.

“Do you find yourself worrying often?” he asked her once she settled down.

“Kind of.” Then she frowned. “Okay, a lot.”

“Why?”

“I just...I don’t know. I just worry.”

“Interesting.” Solas let his staff rest against the rock and watched the clouds overhead; they were whitish-gray, blanketing the entire sky. “Another storm, perhaps?” he murmured, and then turned to look at her. “Never mind. I suppose, then, that I should explain Thedas to you as if you knew nothing of it, excluding what you know of the war and Chantry?”

Ahnnie nodded.

“Very well.” And so, with an intake of breath, Solas began the task of explaining his world to someone who was a complete stranger.

* * *

 

Ahnnie listened, enraptured, as the elf told her about the many kingdoms that composed Thedas.

First of all, Thedas was not just the name of the world – it was also the name of a single continent upon which all these kingdoms resided. No other continents seemed to exist, at least to the best of Thedosian knowledge, although there were islands and some faraway places at the fringe of the map. He promised her a look at an actual map later; for now, she only had to listen.

The country they were currently in was Ferelden, and Haven sat on its very edge along the tip of the Frostback Mountains. The more Solas explained it to her, the more Ferelden sounded like a uniqe mix of frontier America and twelfth-century England. The best part about Fereldan culture to Ahnnie was the importance of dogs. While canines were used from herding to guarding and hunting, Fereldans also held an appreciation of the animal as a staunch companion. Lying directly east of Ferelden, the Orelsian Empire was known as a nation of great wealth and opulence. If France was given leave to become an empire with a heavy emphasis on fashion, then it would certainly sound like Orlais. Orlesian nobility and royalty were often involved in a series of infighting, plotting, and political machinations called ‘The Grand Game’ that took courtly intrigue to a whole new level. And to the north, the Tevinter Imperium was yet another great nation, known for its expansive empire in the past. Unlike the rest of Thedas, mages were held in high esteem in Tevinter. As magisters, they were the rulers of the Imperium, led by the Imperial Archon. The names as well as some of the history brought the Roman Empire to mind.

In fact, the more Solas spoke of the other nations, the more she could seem to identify some similarity or counterpart from her world. Antiva’s spicy and flowery culture seemed like the Italian city-states; the artistic and death-obsessed Nevarra a strange, indefinite mix between Romance European countries and, interestingly enough, the death culture of Ancient Egypt; and the exotic Rivain sounded similar to Moorish Spain, but she was not too sure. The Free Marches had their own distinct flavor, being a collection of city-states with no clear parallel, and the Anderfels were a mystery to her, although it was from there that Solas explained the Blights that had plagued Thedas and the Grey Wardens.

But that was just the human side of things; when she pressed Solas for the elves and the dwarves, she was shocked to hear that elves were considered inferior and often relegated to alienages within the cities or scattered across the Dales in clans. It went against the fantasy tropes where elves were often the superior and haughty race. He proceeded to tell her the story of Elvhenan and the fall of the elven pantheon, in which the trickster god Fen’Harel was often the culprit for the elves’ fall from power. She could hardly believe it was solely the work of the gods, however, and he agreed that there was more history behind it than the myth let on.

As for dwarves, they were separated between surface dwarves and underground Orzammar dwarves. Surface dwarves tended to live as the humans around them did, but Orzammar dwarves lived under a strict regimen of castes. Varric was an example of a casteless dwarf, hailing from the Free Marches city of Kirkwall. And to the far reaches of the north, beyond the Tevinter Imperium, were the islands Par Vollen and Seheron where a race of horned giants called the Qunari lived. That was all he could tell her for now, and he suggested that if she wished to know more on anything he had presented, she should read books on history and cultures.

“The problem is I can’t read the words here,” she lamented.

“You have a different writing system?” he asked her curiously.

“Yes, and I was surprised it wasn’t the same for here, as the language seems to be.” Ahnnie shrugged. “I guess that’s just how it is. I should learn how to read it, though. I don’t want to be handicapped forever.”

“I’ll make a note of it to Cassandra,” Solas remarked. “Perhaps she can get ahold of one of the Chantry sisters to help you.”

Ahnnie nodded. But at the mention of Cassandra, she remembered something – “She said you were a hedge mage. What is that, exactly?”

Solas gave her a wry smile. “It is a term for mages whose magic is...different, from that of typical mages. Both in development and expression. As it happens outside the Circle of Magi, many are wary of it, the Chantry especially. But enough on me; tell me of _your_ world.”

She blinked in surprise. “Do you believe that I come from another world, though?” she asked curiously. “Now that I think about it...Cassandra and Varric talk as if I come from another place, but they never really say where specifically, or show that they believe.” She didn’t blame them. She wouldn’t have believed, if it were not for what she’d seen.

Solas shrugged. “It is possible. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage...while I’m not aware of any previous instances of interworldly travel, I wouldn’t deem it impossible.”

Now Ahnnie was even _more_ curious about Solas and his experiences; if he was an apostate, and a hedge mage at that, how did he convince Cassandra to let him help? In fact, why did people call Cassandra ‘Seeker’? Did it have anything to do with templars? But she realized that asking so many questions at once might seem imposing, so she began to uphold her end of the bargain.

She started with the fact that her world was more commonly known as ‘Earth’, at least in the English language; the equivalent to the Thedosian Common tongue. Earth had not one continent but seven, and many, _many_ countries within its vast reach. She only told him of what was more widely known, sharing with him especially her observations on the similarities to the Thedosian cultures and vice versa. When she told Solas of the major religions, he was delighted to be able to draw parallels between the Andrastian and Christian beliefs. She reiterated that there were no other races besides the humans. What humans did consider as a ‘race’, however, were characteristics of skin color and facial features. These primarily differed across the continents, although there were as many different people as there were different countries. Unlike the divide between nobles and commoners in Thedas, the social direction of Earth seemed to gravitate more towards equality. While there were still unequal power balances, a lot of people had more opportunities than before.

Ahnnie could tell that gears were turning in Solas’ head as he took it all in. His face brightened in wonderment as it grew evident that her world was a world more technologically advanced than he’d previously imagined; going from technology as Thedas had to the great mechanic wonders of factories, cars, airplanes, computers, phones, the Internet! Everything from food to clothes was mass-produced, and communication could take place within the blink of an eye no matter what the distance between the communicators. Travel was also made faster and easier, making it even more possible to connect people from faraway places.

This world had no magic, demons, Veil, or Fade, but science at its helm. Bladed weapons had long ago been cast aside in favor of firearms, bombs, missiles, rockets; many of them projectiles of some sort, Ahnnie realized, but more capable of damage than their bladed ancestors had been. To reference some of their prowess, she told Solas of the famous World Wars. Medicine was at an all-time breakthrough, with men able to see organisms smaller than a speck of dust through microscopes and identify which ones caused diseases, doctors able to operate on a live person as they lay under anesthesia, and multiple vaccinations that could guard a person against any number of viral ills – some of which pushed whole diseases to the brink of extinction.

Solas nodded thoughtfully as he considered the greatness of such a world, and yet at the same time its pitfalls; the sacrifice of the environment in favor of industrialization, the immense power placed in nations’ militaries, and the laziness that everyday inventions might incur, to name a few.

Ahnnie found herself practically breathless by the time she finished (and yet, one could not simply ‘finish’ explaining worlds as diverse as Earth and Thedas, could they?), but the talk had been enjoyable; more so than she thought it’d be. She opened her mouth again in eager anticipation of continuing some of the debates that Solas brought up, but was silenced when he noticed an ominous rush of weather headed Haven’s way.

“We will continue this later,” he promised her, and she reluctantly made her way back to her cabin.

* * *

 

The snowstorm lasted for the rest of the day, much to Ahnnie’s dismay. There were rations in her cabin to sustain her but she still hungered for more talk with Solas. Of course, her interest was probably better invested in books, as Solas must have busted his mouth explaining all that he did to her, but she was as equally curious to learn of him as she was of Thedas.

His knowledge of the Fade, especially...what was it exactly that he knew? Could he possibly shed any light on how she came here? Did he know a way back?

She was out and about the next morning, disobeying Adan and searching for Solas. The healer had not come by today, so he didn’t weigh too heavily on her conscience. She found Solas more or less in the same area as before, and when he greeted her, it was not she who quickly got down to business but the elf himself.

“Tell me, what is your culture like?” he asked. “You mentioned that you were born in America, but you must surely know a few things about Vietnam.”

She hadn’t expected him to ask that. Still, she was delighted to hear that he was interested. “I do, actually,” she said. They sat back down on the same rock as before and Ahnnie tried to think of where she would start. “Well, most of Vietnamese culture is in line with the filial duty and ancestral worship that originated in China...”

The people were either Buddhists or Catholics, but even then, parents and elders were extremely important. Unlike its big neighbor to the north, Vietnam was a small country that was no stranger to multiple invasions. China, the Mongols, Japan, France – and there was probably more, but she didn’t know of them. The only time it ever managed to invade another country was long, long ago, when it claimed land from the Cambodian Champa kingdom in the south. The most recent conflict she knew of, the Vietnam War, was what brought her family to America as refugees against the Communist regime. Therefore, a mix of resilience and submission to foreigners was present in the culture.

Vietnamese people were categorized in three different ways according to the main dialects: Northern, Middle, and Southern. To explain this to Solas, Ahnnie needed to demonstrate the four different tones in the Vietnamese language, in her own words: the up tone, the down tone, the roller coaster, and the deep down tone. All three dialects maintained the use of tones, but pronounced things different ways; The Northerners often sounded as though they were speaking with constricted throats. Southerners, on the other hand, had a more bouncing flow to their words. And then the Middle dialect had been a bafflement to her all her life; almost every other word seemed punctuated with a deep down tone, and it didn’t help that they had their own extensive vocabulary. When asked which dialect she used, she replied, “Southern.”

And onto stereotypes: Northerners were considered cold and classy; Southerners, naive and hospitable. Ahnnie tried to remember what the people of the Middle had been known for, but couldn’t find it in any of her memories. _If I’d been home, I could just ask someone or use the Internet..._ Indeed, a lot of her knowledge was fragmented in many areas. Gathered as a whole, it probably didn’t matter, but where she would have used a Google search to help fill in the blanks she could only shrug helplessly and admit defeat. That bothered her more than a little.

But moving on. Due to the prestige of the Northern dialect, it was the norm for songs to be sung in it regardless of the composer or singer’s origins, unless it was specifically a song meant for that region. Curious, Solas encouraged her to give him an example. “One can learn a lot about cultures through song alone,” he had remarked.

Ahnnie nodded and took in a few deep breaths as she tried to remember[ some noteworthy Northern song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VD6bde5Qllk) to start off with. Her mind filtered through the countless melodies imprinted on her mind from years of listening at parties, functions, home...

 

“ _Waking up alone in the morning,_ _I look_ _around –_

 _Light slants through_ _window. The birds are startled,_

 _Knowing their songs of love have been heard..._ ”

 

Her voice faltered and then she realized that that was all she knew of the song. She tried futilely to summon the next verse, but quickly realized she couldn’t. It had, at the very least, captured most of the Northern dialect. To cover up her embarrassment, she moved onto [a Southern song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OhOrEQ5Cno). Its melody was noticeably more buoyant in tone and structure, to reflect the dialect and countryside origins:

 

“ _Out in the fields, the rice has dried out_

_A starling flies alone in the skies_

_Calling, ‘Oh friend of my heart, oh’_

 

_We are separated by a few rivers_

_And yet why can’t you return?_

_So that this suffering heart must grow sadder_

_And thirst after the rain._ ”

 

She paused, almost afraid that she’d forgotten the rest, and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had not.

 

“ _Now the rice is green again_

_The starling returns to the river_

_Flying alone, crying, ‘Oh friend of my heart, oh’_

 

_What is there to miss?_

_For the call, the call never made it_

_Let the silence assuage_

_These aching sorrows._

 

_Every evening, the starling flies across the river, searching_

_Only to be lost, lost and regretful_

_Starlings separated from their flock still hope to come together_

_So why do you cross the bridge, and never return?_ ”

 

Her voice choked on the last word and she coughed. With a sheepish smile, she dismissed the stumble as nothing more than a throat irritation and carried on to the next refrain.

 

“ _We are separated by a few rivers_

_And yet why can’t you return?_

_So that this suffering heart must grow sadder_

_And thirst after the rain._

 

_With a heavy heart, I sing the old folk song out of love for he who crossed the bridge_

_With a heavy heart, I sing the old folk song to assuage my sorrow_

_Those who crossed the bridge and returned, have done so_

_Those who crossed the bridge want to return, and can do so._

 

_Tomorrow, I am going far. To whom shall I send this song?_

_Tomorrow, I am going far. To whom shall I send this song?_

_Tomorrow, I am going far. This song...I wish to return...to–_ ”

 

Her voice was unable to take the high notes. It had been straining the moment she entered the very last line. She coughed again, tears rimming the edges of her eyes as her throat stung. Solas pat her on the back and asked if she was all right; when she looked up, she found more tears welling into her eyes, and not simply from her throat, either.

“I need a moment,” she quietly rasped, and Solas nodded.

* * *

 

“Are Vietnamese songs always so sad?”

Ahnnie thought carefully before she could deny or affirm the fact. “I think they are,” she realized – as she perused the titles of famous songs she knew, they didn’t exactly reflect smiles and sunshine. _Thành_ _Ph_ _ố_ _Buồ̀n,_ “Sad City”; _Riêng Một Góc Trời,_ “Lonely Corner of the Sky”; _Mưa Rừng,_ “Forest Rain”; and then the songs she sang from, _Một Mình,_ “Alone” and _Nỗi Buồn Chim Sáo,_ “Sorrow of the Starling”. There _were_ happy songs out there, but sad ones seemed to outnumber them. Perhaps that said something about the culture, but she wasn’t too sure of what.

“Sorry about earlier,” she apologized. “I guess I chose the wrong song to, well, sing...it was about going across a bridge and returning.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Solas assured her. “It is expected that you would become homesick.”

He sounded sad, almost regretful. Ahnnie immediately felt guilty for tearing up as she did and berated herself for being so inconsiderate. She could not deny the yawning hole that had opened within her, though...that empty abyss that cried out for completion...for home.

 _Is that how I feel? Incomplete?_ It was a curious thought. It was true, however, that she would’ve been happy going on in her daily routine. Wake up, have some breakfast, walk the dogs, study...it was safe and snug, as long as her parents were pleased with her.

As long as.

Ahnnie’s lips twisted broodily as the concepts clashed in her mind. Everything was fine, _as long as_ her parents were happy. She was pleased with her life _as long as_ nothing serious happened. She was okay with continuing that sort of life at the expense of her freedom. Horror crept into her heart as it had many times before when she envisioned herself as an older adult, still chained in that cycle that was at once safe and sickening.

It was only now, however, that a strange series of events forced her to look at the implications in their full glory. She put a hand to her mouth, feeling an uncomfortable churning in her stomach as the realizations sank in.

“Can I trust you, Solas?” she whispered a moment later, her hand lowering to her side.

The elf turned to her, slightly surprised, but nodded anyway.

 _This is crazy._ But she wasn’t stopping. “You know how I said that eighteen-year-olds are legally considered adults in America?” When he nodded, she continued, “So I know not all of them leave home once they come of age. With the economy as it is, sometimes they stay for longer. But I...I’m different. As in, the bad sort of different. I’m no better than those freeloaders who live in their mothers’ basements playing video games all day.”

The comparison stung, but she wanted to be truthful. "I have no spine. I tell myself I won't let others push me around, but when it comes to my parents, I let them do whatever they want. Even now, it seems like I can't do anything on my own. I..."

 _I'm being confusing._ She sighed. "I call them 'parents' but they're my mom and my stepdad. See, when I was six, my actual parents got a divorce. I don't know how divorces work in Thedas, but on Earth...they can get pretty messy. Then she moved out, and we ended up being split between them. She would blame it all on our dad, and convinced us do the same.

"Everything went downhill when she met our stepdad. I mean, he was nice at first; really funny, and everything. But the moment she officially got together with him, it was like a bomb went off. Suddenly, we had to define where our loyalties lay. Everyone on the maternal side – our aunts, our grandmother, even distant cousins we didn't know about. They just suddenly came out of the woodwork and forced us to have an opinion in favor of our dad. Then she was doing the same thing, and it became a daily struggle for us to please everybody. When my little brother was born a year later, my grandparents disowned her and she cut off all contact with everybody else, convinced that she was the victim.

"Then when I was twelve...our dad fought for full custody. My mom and stepdad went full rabid on us, threatening to never see us again if we weren't fully committed to staying with them, or if we let out anything that would've complicate her custody." Ahnnie's throat caught, and she gulped. "I loved her at the same time I was afraid of her, so I just did as she said. My little sister wasn't so sure, though, and went through the worst of their rage...she agreed just to make them shut up, and when Mom won the case, she...she's never been the same again...

"Then my stepdad convinced Mom to move to another state. That was when our finances became tight. And I don't know  _how_ it happened, but Mom was suddenly 'hearing' all these spirits talk to her and she became convinced that she was a god of some sort. I think the stress got to her...Stepdad took advantage of it and moved the statues on the altar to make it look like they were communicating with her...I was confused until I realized that these 'messages' were...were telling her to trick people for profit. Innocent, naive Vietnamese people who didn't know what to do when the American economy gave way."

She shuddered and hugged her knees to her body. "It stopped when I was, what, fourteen? After that, it seemed like she didn't need gods to give her messages to tell her what to do. It became natural. Still, whenever she wanted something, it was always 'the gods' who decreed it, and she would get really loud if she thought she was being defied. Like when she pulled me and my sister from school into homeschooling; my sister protested, and she yelled so loudly the neighbors called the cops. Or that one time she roared in 'heavenly wrath' when she thought my little brother was playing too many video games. He was only ten and played just one game, an hour a day." Ahnnie hid her face in her knees, cringing in embarrassment. "God. That sounds so stupid."

Solas shifted in his seat, and Ahnnie felt a warm hand placed on her back. "No, it sounds horrible. No matter how outlandish it might seem, it doesn't detract from what you and your siblings faced. To think that it would, would be a grave mistake."

"And yet, so many people made that mistake," Ahnnie ground out. "I tried telling people about what she did to my brother but they laughed and said it was his fault for not listening to his mother, and that I was making shit up about her because I was upset." She sighed. "I'm pretty sure CPS let that one go down the drain. The cops weren't any help, either; they just bought her story about an argument between her and Stepdad, and left.

"She never knew I did that, so we were all safe for a time. Money came in, she was happy, Stepdad was happy...they got us a dog, and we were happy. Then another dog, and shit hit the fan for a while when they refused to spay or neuter either one and puppies came...but if nothing really happens, then living with them is tolerable. Well, if you didn't think too much about the made-up identities and lies you have to tell so she could pull off her scams."

The elf watched her pensively, brows furrowed in thought. "I see..."

"Nothing major; just things like we're her sister's kids, or her piano students, or we're this-and-that age." She paused a moment, thinking. "If I had to compare my mom and stepdad to anything, I would say that they're like the Thernadiers from Victor Hugo's  _Les Miserables._ Selfish, lying, cheating scum who treat their children well when things are good, but horribly when things go bad. And who are attracted to anybody with the bigger purse," she added for good measure. "But that's why I'm no hero, no Herald of An-what's-her-name. They tell me to be a good girl, stay in the house, and don't think about being anything on my own because that's what the gods want, then I do it. I only fought demons because I was afraid I would die. And suddenly, I don't know whether I want to be home or not. I miss my dogs, I'm worried for my siblings, and yet I'm so undecided."

That answer seemed to confound Solas, but it was not completely unwarranted. He had been reading the gist from her monologue as patiently and observantly as he had when she told him about Earth. "I know you think yourself hopeless because of what happened to you," he said at last. "You are not, however, defined by those times. Contrary to what you believe, you  _do_ have the power to shape your life differently – more so now than before. Perhaps you will find that your time here will change you, and that if you return, you can carve out a life for the better."

"Perhaps," she murmured.  _If_ a way home could be found in the first place. And it seemed like a nice goal to work towards. "But man, I said all that...to you..." She shook her head. "I've never told anyone else before...it's just...for something like this to happen to me, it's almost..."  _Coincidence? Fate?_ "...absurd."

"Then it makes me happy that you chose me to confide in. Know that if you should need anything, I am here to help," Solas added, smiling gently at her. "You don't have to go about this alone, after all."

"Thanks." She managed a small smile, even though she still felt torn on the inside. "But what do you think is going to happen?" she asked a moment later.

"Many things. Great and wondrous, terrible and dreadful...but your undoing will not be one of them; not unless you will it to."

And for one thrilling, empowered moment, she was able to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend you listen to the linked songs above to get a feel of what they're like. You don't have to listen to all of it, just a few lines...*shameless promotion of culture, haha*
> 
> Also, there are officially 6 tones in the Vietnamese language. However Ahnnie notes 4 because she is not counting the neutral tone, in which nothing changes, and there are two variations of the roller coaster tone in the Northern dialect that are not present/audible in the Southern one.


	7. I'll Make a (Wo)Man Out of You

Cassandra walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind her. _Where could she be?_ She trudged down the snowy path, trying to think of where the girl might have gone. _What an inopportune time to go missing,_ she thought dourly.

She had checked what seemed like every inch of Haven and the girl’s cabin twice by now. Her absence was not only worrying, it was irritating; especially when so many important things were brewing. Cassandra was aware of how much Ahnnie disliked her new situation, but that didn’t make it any less important. It was time she learned of what she had to do – no more hesitance, no more stuttering, and certainly no more procrastinating. They had all been waiting for her foot to heal, and now that it had, it was time for her to embrace the responsibilities that came along with the mark on her hand.

Then Cassandra caught sight of a familiar bulky shape from the corner of her eye. “Varric,” she hailed when she faced the dwarf on the path.

“Seeker,” Varric greeted back, giving her a mock bow. “How may I be of assistance?”

She ignored his faux grandiosity and went straight to the point. “Have you seen the Herald of Andraste?”

“Oh, Ahnnie? Yeah, I have.”

“Where?”

He pointed with his thumb behind him. “She went on a walk with Solas outside of town. I heard them talkin’ about scandalous elections and some guy named Trump.”

Cassandra couldn't care less about who ‘Trump’ was. That the girl left Haven with the elf was all she needed to hear. “Maker’s breath!” She shoved past Varric and stormed down the path, this time heading towards Haven’s gates. _The foolish girl! And that apostate –_ words simply couldn’t describe her incredulity at the moment. _Do they want to draw more suspicion on themselves?_ A soldier chatting idly with his colleague on the side of the path saw the angry Seeker and straightened in salutation. She ignored him. _How long have they been gone for? And how often have they done this? I really should have paid more attention to her!_

* * *

 

Ahnnie relished the crunch of boots on freshly fallen snow as she strolled beside Solas. The chill winter air swept delightfully by her cheeks and nose, tinting them with a slight reddish hue.

“So not only has Trump opened up with scandalous remarks, but Clinton is facing a federal investigation at the same time? That certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

She laughed. “I know. She and Trump are now the nominees for their parties, last time I checked. There are others running for smaller parties, but I never really got their names.” Ahnnie shook her head. “I don’t pay much attention to politics, anyhow. Too chaotic. I only know about their nominations because of how it was everywhere; on TV, newspapers, magazines, radio, the Internet...and that’s not counting the people who were talking about it.”

Solas chuckled. “You have yet to see Orlesian nobility in their full glory.”

Ahnnie simply smiled and redirected her attention to the trail. Ever since those first talks of worlds and culture, she met up with Solas regularly to continue exchanging information. She had fun in particular trying to fit the different aspects of Thedosian cultures under Geert Hofstede’s five cultural dimensions, or discussing Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs when trying to dissect the drive behind the players of the Grand Game. In return, she was able to learn more of the elf’s fascinating journeys to the Fade through dream.

Entering the Fade! Through _dream_!

Ahnnie was shocked to hear that everyone did that, except for dwarves, who did not dream. It set her on edge at first when she thought of all the dreaming she’d done – Solas told her she was unconscious in the prison for two days, then for three days after sealing the first rift, and it had been nigh on three weeks since then, so she’d been here a total of four weeks – _four weeks_ worth of dreaming and entering that accursed Fade. Some of her dreams _had_ been rather funky, now that she thought of it...

But she relaxed when she saw how everyone around her still seemed okay though they too had Fade dreams. It was then she learned that the Fade was more than just a creepy dimension of spirits and demons; it was a repository of memories, a place able to be shaped by belief and willpower – she had only to believe in a certain thing whilst there, and it would come true. Much like in dreams on Earth, she supposed. It made her wonder whether the Fade held true for both Thedas and Earth? It must have somehow, if she’d been able to enter Thedas through a tear in it. And yet dreaming was proven to be a purely cognitive function back on Earth. Solas arched an eyebrow when he heard that scientists, through brainwave tests, proved dreaming occurred during a phase known as rapid eye movement sleep and originated in some part of the brain, drawing on memory to construct the dream. A person born blind, for example, could not dream visually but audibly, because they had never known sight to begin with but had plenty of sound memories to draw from.

“Perhaps that explains why there is no magic in your world,” Solas then suggested. “Still, it does sound as though some characteristics of the Fade are present in Earth dreams. As for a blind person’s experience in the Fade...I have yet to hear of it, though I imagine it would be rather interesting.”

But as much as Solas was willing to divulge on his dreams ( _sleeping in ruins to experience their history? Now that’s new,_ Ahnnie thought), he seemed reticent about giving full details of his past. For all this talk of the Fade, the only things Ahnnie knew about him personally was that he grew up in a small village, left it to travel the wilderness and experience more of the Fade, and was his own teacher when it came to magic. Nothing quite as detailed as her monologue three weeks prior, but that was all right – not everyone was willing to spill so much at a time. It still baffled her sometimes that she trusted so much to him in the first place, but she didn’t dwell on it.

And yet, chatting with Solas was not all that she’d been up to. Perhaps he had talked Cassandra, for a Chantry sister named Sister Magdelene showed up one day with books and paper and began tutoring her on how to read and write in Common. She had come to the cabin in consideration of the girl’s foot, but Ahnnie soon alternated between the cabin and a room in the Chantry to make it more convenient for the nun. Under Sister Magdelene’s tutelage, she was able to catch onto the runic Common fairly soon; it shared similar sounds to the English alphabet, with some differences and tweaks (some of which she still puzzled over, such as two or three runes for a certain sound to be alternated when used in a certain way), but by the end of the first week she was able to slowly read passages in the Chant of Light.

Sister Magdelene encouraged her to keep a journal handy and often assigned her writing projects in a separate notebook to assist in accuracy and penmanship. Ahnnie pounced at this chance to keep her own journal, writing more in the English alphabet than the Common runes, yet still alternating between the two. She mostly wrote down things about Earth so that she wouldn’t forget – song lyrics, current and historic events, memories, anything she knew that she could think of to put into writing – sometimes whole entries in grammatically choppy Vietnamese, for the threat of forgetfulness loomed ominously in her mind. When she got ahold of sketching charcoals, she added illustrations to that collection, some of which she showed Solas when she thought they might interest him. They ranged from cultural costumes and everyday clothes to buildings, household appliances, and automobiles. If at any time she was grateful for good drawing skills, it was now.

Between that and visiting Netta and Lady at the Singing Maiden, Ahnnie believed herself to be having quite an enjoyable time. She was making good progress with Lady, getting the dog to accept food by hand from both her and Netta. And when Adan and Nala came by, she was able to get the skittish elf girl to call her “Lady Ahnnie” rather than “my lady” or “Lady Herald” – not complete familiarity, but acceptable for now. Varric occasionally popped by to see how she was doing and would sometimes listen to stories of her world, though if he believed in any of it, he did not seem to show.

When Ahnnie and Solas neared the gates of Haven, the guards pulled the doors to let them in. She was still in a cheery mood as the gates slowly swung open, unaware of an angry female figure standing there with her arms crossed. When the female figure was revealed in full, Ahnnie jolted in shock and immediately felt afraid.

“C-Cassandra,” she stammered, “um...hi...”

From the look on the Seeker’s face, it seemed as though she had much to answer for.

* * *

 

“It was just this once,” Ahnnie insisted. “Honest. You can ask the guards; they’ll swear this is the only time they ever let us out. Plus, we were in sight of the gates the whole time.”

“And Chancellor Roderick will swear that you’ve been out plotting the destruction of the world,” Cassandra put in flatly. “I may have dismissed him as a scholar, but that doesn’t mean we should give him more cause to dislike the Inquisition. He is, most unfortunately, head of the Chantry now.”

“Him? But I thought...”

“Everyone who outranked him was killed in the explosion. So until the remaining grand clerics can elect a new Divine, he is the de facto leader of the Chantry.”

The Seeker was pleased to see that the realization had shaken her, as her pale face indicated. However, Cassandra was not cruel; she assured the girl a moment later that the Inquisition operated separately from the Chantry. They simply should not give the Chancellor more fuel for his misgivings, was all.

But perhaps she should be more worried about Solas. Cassandra was not as distrusting of mages as most people were, but there was no denying the fact that he had no Circle credentials and that his area of magical study was one upon which the Chantry frowned. He was useful, that was true; his knowledge of the Fade could help them seal the Breach. But if he so much as stepped out of line, Cassandra didn’t think even her authority as Seeker or the Herald’s new prestige could keep him safe in Andrastian territory.

“It was all my idea,” Ahnnie apologized at last. “I’m sorry. I thought it was fine since everyone seemed okay with Solas by now...That is, I told them it would be okay, because I trusted him. So, he had nothing to do with it.”

“I understand,” Cassandra sighed. “What is done has been done. Solas will not be facing any repercussions, if that is what you fear.” Still, she was going to have a word with him about it later. She also supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that the girl used her title to gain what she wanted. Ahnnie was inexperienced, but not naive; not as far as Cassandra could tell, anyway. But that was for another time. For now, they had to focus on the matter at hand. “Since your health has been cleared by Adan, it is time you learned to fight.”

They stopped by a group of soldiers who were practicing their swordcraft, metal clashing and clanging as the blades struck. Ahnnie flinched when she saw sparks fly from the swords of a pair of soldiers closest to them.

“Not with real weapons, of course,” Cassandra assured her. “At least, not right away. But if we are to succeed in sealing the Breach, then it is essential that you know how to defend yourself.”

Ahnnie nodded. “I understand,” she answered, her voice grim.

“Good.” Cassandra looked the girl up and down in appraisal. “We will do what we can to accommodate your body to combat. Of course, it will not be easy – you have not trained as these soldiers trained, so you will not be used to the exercise. Most likely you will find it very uncomfortable. It is not impossible, however; recruits have been picked out from older people, and have done just fine.”

“You’re forgetting the amount of time spent training such recruits,” a familiar voice chimed in, “and the fact that they are picked from people such as farmers, who are no strangers to physical exertion.”

Cassandra turned around. “Leliana,” she greeted.

Leliana stepped up to them and returned Cassandra’s greeting with her title. “I see we’re finally getting onto combat training,” she said when she turned to Ahnnie. “As Cassandra mentioned, it will be difficult, yet can still be done. We’re not looking for mastery; but rather, competency. Forcing you to learn too much will result in getting you nowhere. And yet, we have a narrow time frame with which to do it.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Cassandra added, “and so rather than make you learn a standard weapon, you shall be trained according to whatever fits you better.”

“Well...that does make sense,” Ahnnie remarked.

Then Leliana suddenly grabbed hold of her right hand, studying it. “A pity,” she sighed. “You have such smooth, uncalloused hands...” Her grey-blue eyes shifted over to the girl’s confused brown ones, their intent indiscernible. “You could have made a worthwhile bard.”

Ahnnie jerked slightly in the spymaster’s grasp as a bewildered look overcame her. Leliana chuckled. “It seems you know what a bard is,” she commented. “But of course, there isn’t enough time to teach you that profession.” She gently let down the girl’s hand. “Nor do you have the right mentality. You should prepare yourself, however; your hands will hurt like hell for the next few days.”

Cassandra had suspected that the girl led a sheltered life, so that came as no surprise to her. “We will begin with a series of tests using fake or blunted versions of different weapons,” she announced. “The weapon you are most comfortable with will be the one for you to train in.” She drew out two wooden swords from a nearby barrel and handed one to Ahnnie. “I will go easy on you but you are to come at me seriously, as if you mean to hurt me. If you do not...” The Seeker crouched into a fighting stance, the fake weapon held in both hands. “...then I will make you.”

* * *

 

Ahnnie felt her muscles tense as she watched Cassandra advance on her. It was like reliving the fights with the demons, only in a completely different way; Cassandra was coming for her. It was not a brutish demon standing opposite her but a seasoned warrior, much more skilled and experienced than she was.

The thought was intimidating, made more so by the Seeker’s glaring eyes. Though she promised to go easy, she probably didn’t realize her face looked anything _but_ easy. Ahnnie froze in place as she tried to think of what to do. _Stand my ground, let her swipe, take her open side..._ And then Cassandra was upon her, and she barely blocked the Seeker’s swing with her sword. _Is she really going easy on me?_ Ahnnie wondered. _That blow was hard!_ She jumped back a step to keep some distance between them and jabbed out at Cassandra’s side as planned.

The Seeker dodged and lunged in with an elbow, knocking Ahnnie’s hands aside and disarming her almost immediately.

As the wooden sword fell uselessly to the ground, a few soldiers who were taking breaks perked up at the noise and watched the pair with interest. Ahnnie’s cheeks burned as she felt their eyes on her back and heard a few chuckles.

Without a word, Cassandra grabbed a wooden shield and blunted mace and equipped the girl with the items. For herself, she made do with a blunted sword and another wooden shield. After giving a few pointers on how to wield a mace, she lunged in again and Ahnnie instinctively brought up the shield to prevent the attack from connecting.

 _Thwap!_ The sword banged against the shield, sending vibrations through her arm that clattered her very teeth. Ahnnie brought up the mace a moment later, but it was a moment too late, for as she lowered the shield to see where she should strike her opponent, the sight of the blade so near her face made her freeze and Cassandra successfully disarmed her again.

And so the process would repeat with a variety of other handheld weapons; axes, hammers, flails...they tried other swords, such as the short sword, falchion, and saber, and it even seemed as though Cassandra went easier on her than before. But no matter what Ahnnie used to defend herself, the Seeker would always manage to disarm her in record time.

 _Is this really necessary?_ she wondered as her weapon flew out of her hands for the umpteenth time. _Can they really tell if I’m ‘comfortable’ with a weapon this way? Why can’t they just pick one already and train me in it? Then I won’t have this stupid problem._

She was about ready to give up until Leliana handed her a quarterstaff. A different type of weapon was certainly a refreshing sight, and Ahnnie couldn’t think of ways for Cassandra to disarm her with something like a stave. Not unless she was able to get close, of course – and Ahnnie couldn’t let her do that. As she held the quarterstaff in her hands, she felt a marked difference from the other weapons, and it wasn’t just from being another type; since the weight was more evenly distributed along the shaft, the weapon felt balanced, more manageable. Its length, running about six feet long, seemed perfect to her for keeping enemy weapons at bay. She mentally shuddered as she remembered the proximity with which Cassandra’s blade had come to her.

Satisfied, Ahnnie turned back around to face Cassandra again. As always, the Seeker gave her helpful hints on how to use the different weapons she came to hold, but Ahnnie could already tell some of the quarterstaff’s basics from its shape; pretty much blunt damage enforced by the ends, in punishing jabs or whacks.

Ahnnie stood her ground once more as Cassandra stopped pacing to come rushing at her. As she drew close, Ahnnie moved the quarterstaff in a quick jab at the woman’s shoulder, opposite the side where she brandished her blade. Cassandra slapped it aside before it could connect and Ahnnie followed up with a flanking blow on the other side. Her heart leapt with joy when she realized that she had made her first hit. As Cassandra tried to maneuver around the quarterstaff, she was able to score several more hits and even one block to the sword before the Seeker snuck in on an open side and held the blade at her back; not roughly, but firmly enough to let her know that this segment of the test was finished.

It lasted perhaps ten seconds overall, but it was the longest Ahnnie had been able to hold out against Cassandra. When they both separated and put their weapons aside, Leliana took up the quarterstaff and eyed it carefully.

“It seems polearms are more of your type,” she remarked a while later. “You prefer a long reach with the ability to keep your opponent at bay...is that correct?”

Ahnnie nodded. “At least, I didn’t know I did until now.”

Leliana nodded back thoughtfully. “Of course, it’s a good compensation for your height, and the balance is better for your body...” She trailed off, turning the quarterstaff in her hands as if to inspect it for a hidden blemish. “Glaive-guisarme,” she suddenly said. “Standard shaft, lighter blade – that’s the weapon for you.”

“What?”

“Orlesian,” the spymaster clarified. “A polearm with a curved blade and hook on the reverse side to catch other blades in combat, or other riders if on horseback. A bladed end wouldn’t be so bad, either. I’ll make a note to the blacksmith to craft one. It will take several days, perhaps less if it’s not too much trouble to rework this quarterstaff, but you will train with a halberd in the meantime.”

“That’s great,” Ahnnie commented, “but...why craft a new one? Can’t I just learn with a halberd?”

“Halberds are more about cleaving movements,” Leliana explained. “You seem like you would be better accustomed to rounded slashing movements, which the curved blade of the glaive-guisarme is better for, in addition to cleaving; then there is the added benefit of the hook.” She put the quarterstaff aside and continued, “The point for now is to learn the basics of polearms. There are universal rules for wielding them, regardless of the blade. Then once you start specializing in one, the difference is simply in knowing which movement goes best with the blade shape.” When the girl still seemed confused, Leliana assured her, “It will all become apparent once you get better.”

“And in order to get better, you must start somewhere,” Cassandra put in. “You will now take your first lesson with Corporal Hargrave, our polearms expert. You are to report to him every morning after breakfast and train until he dismisses you for the day.”

Ahnnie nodded. “All right. Sounds good to me.”

And with that, Cassandra took her across the training ground to where Corporal Hargrave stood supervising some soldiers in their polearm practice. He was a tall man with well-built legs, and when he turned around to regard them, Ahnnie noticed he also possessed the bushiest mustache she’d ever seen.

Cassandra took him aside to exchange a few words before she pushed Ahnnie towards him and left. There was an awkward moment when he suddenly scolded a few soldiers who had stopped to gawk, his booming voice freezing her into an attentive stance though the training had not yet begun. When he finished, he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his mustache dancing to life. “Now then, Herald of Andraste – you’ve chosen the way of the polearm. I’m honored. But first, a few ground rules.” He held up a finger for every point he made. “One: there will be no special treatment. I’ll train you as I train the rest of my men. Two: an order is an order. And, three: if I don’t think you’re finished, I’ll keep running you ‘till you’re finished. Understood?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“What’s that?” he asked, a hand to his ear.

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t hear you.”

Ahnnie pursed her lips, her face already reddening at the thought of yelling out the acknowledgment while other people were close by. But that was what he was looking for. “Yes, sir!” she bellowed out a moment later, her voice cracking a bit towards the end.

Hargrave chuckled. “Fair enough.” He grabbed a halberd off a weapon rack and tossed it vertically in her direction; she made an awkward scrabble for the shaft and it bumped right into the middle of her face. While she was busy rubbing her forehead and nose, Hargrave barked for one of the soldiers to continue leading the drill. Then he took her to one side, and with another halberd in hand, shed all traces of a smile from his face. “We will focus first on basic stances...”

* * *

 

Corporal Hargrave was a tough but fair teacher. He held true to every point he made, treating those under his command equally, expecting orders to be obeyed as he made them, and hounding Ahnnie relentlessly on her weak points, which were many.

But polearms training was not the only training Ahnnie received in the upcoming days.

After the first three lessons, Cassandra decided to pitch in as her trainer for swordsmanship. It came about after Hargrave noted that while most infantry soldiers used polearms to break enemy defenses, they kept swords as sidearms in case combat got too close for comfort, and so it would be a great handicap not to know how to handle a sword. Therefore, after polearms lessons, which could often go as long as four hours, she followed up with an hour-long session of sword training.

It was actually from there that she reunited with the short sword she’d used at the Temple of Sacred Ashes; a soldier had picked it up after the demons disappeared and kept it safe until she should need it again, perhaps assuming it belonged to her in the first place. She had not been sure whether it really was that very short sword, as it looked no different from the others on the weapon rack; but however it came about, Ahnnie felt a little proud as she unbuckled it every day from her belt and placed it in the chest by the fireplace, where the rest of her things were.

After which she would flop into bed bruised, battered, and aching, and proceed to fall into heavy sleep though the day was not yet finished. After that first lesson with Hargrave, she felt as sore as though she’d just run the national mile. He had not only taught her the basic stances, smacking wayward limbs into place with the butt end of his halberd, but also ran her through warm ups and stretching exercises she hadn’t seen since the last time she took P.E. Sore soon became a constant feeling that never went away.

As Leliana predicted, her hand also became tight with blisters and calluses. It was so uncomfortable she asked Hargrave if she could wear gloves while training, but he denied her outright, seeing this as an opportunity to develop pain tolerance. It was only when the blisters burst that he allowed her to use gloves, though she could still feel the pain through them anyway. What made it worse was that, on every other day, she could only catch two hours worth of z’s before horseback riding lessons started.

It wasn’t that she disliked horses; in fact, the first time Cassandra brought her to the livery stables, her inner girly girl gave a squeal of delight upon meeting the animals and receiving her first lessons on caring for them. However, when it got to the actual horseback riding, which initially started in a round pen before taking place on the endless trails outside Haven, she would end the day not only sore in the arms, hands, and back, but cramped in the legs and, ahem, buttocks.

It was an altogether torturous week. She was lucky her lessons with Sister Magdelene were slowing to a close, for she didn’t think she could stay alive after going through all that punishing training _and_ trying to focus on reading and writing assignments at the same time. The sleeping she did in between was her only solace; without it, she barely seemed to have time for anything else, much less the energy.

Then, one day after her combat training, Solas approached her while she lay incapacitated on one of the low stone walls running throughout Haven, too exhausted to even start the walk back to her cabin.

“Tired, aren’t we?” he asked with a smile on his face.

Ahnnie raised herself slowly into a sitting position to see who had addressed her. “Oh, Solas,” she breathed. “Hi...”

The elf settled himself down on the wall next to her and stared thoughtfully out at Haven for a moment, before saying, “I see you have been rather busy these past few days.”

Ahnnie wondered if it was because they hadn’t had the chance to talk since the day Cassandra first whisked her into training. “Kind of. It’s mostly been used for sleeping, though,” she admitted.

Solas chuckled. “Of course – sleep is important when training. Has it given you any noteworthy encounters in the Fade?”

She grimaced. “Haha, very funny.” He was aware of how fearful she was of the Fade, after all, even though she had come to terms with Thedosian dreams.

“While I do jest, I am also quite serious.”

Ahnnie suddenly became more alert than before. She straightened her posture and looked at the elf with widened eyes. “Why? Am I more vulnerable now, or...?”

“Quite the contrary.” He gestured briefly at her left hand. “You are probably now more capable than before when it comes to the Fade.”

“Oh, my mark...”

“That, and magic.”

Ahnnie blinked, his intent now dawning upon her. “You’re saying that I can use magic?”

“Why not?” Solas asked back. “Mages tap into the Fade when casting their spells, and your mark ties you to it.”

She looked at her left hand, then back at Solas. “But I thought magic is hereditary? When you explained the Circles and how they apprentice children who have the gift...”

“Using your mark to seal rifts is a form of magic,” he reminded her. And then he went on, “Even if you can’t achieve the same mastery as an actual mage, you might be able to do something. I have been pondering that for a while, in addition to...”

The thought of being able to do magic seemed exciting and daunting at the same time. It was the very subject of novels and movies back home, a wondrous thing of imagination that people wished they could achieve - perhaps better left that way, as it also had the potential to be grossly misused. But when Solas trailed off, Ahnnie became apprehensive. “To what?” she asked.

He frowned. “I have been thinking...and it might actually be possible...but I...I believe you to be Trevelyan’s parallel,” he finished at last.

“You mean, the guy who got lost in the Fade?”

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “Of course, there is every chance that the fact you exchanged places with him is completely random. However, there is just as much of a chance that the die was not cast blindly.”

Upon hearing that, Ahnnie’s brows deepened in anger. “Who would do such a thing?” she asked, her voice suddenly passionate. “That’s just messed up! Playing with people’s lives like that...That’s...!”

The elf gave her a curious expression, but she did not notice that in her fervor. “I never meant to say it was someone’s fault,” he said at last. “Perhaps I used the wrong words. What I’m referring to is something beyond mortal ken.”

“Spirits, then?” and he couldn’t miss the ironic emphasis on ‘spirits’.

“More like forces,” Solas rebutted. “There is more about the Fade that I’ve yet to know, though I have learned much.” He tilted his head inquisitively. “Would you like to know what I’ve found out about Trevelyan?”

Ahnnie paused, reflecting on her earlier words, before giving a sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I guess I was just tired. But yes, I’d like to hear what you found.”

Solas nodded. “Where his coloring is fair, yours is dark. He has blue eyes, blond hair – you, brown eyes and black hair. Where he is known to be rambunctious and daring, you are reserved and cautious. Where he has led a life of service as a templar, your life is – or has been – one of little to no physical activity.” Ahnnie raised a questioning eyebrow, but before she could ask anything, Solas finished with, “And where you have an affinity for dogs, Trevelyan prefers cats.”

She was so taken aback by this last revelation that after staring wordlessly at the elf for several seconds, she burst into hearty laughter. It took her a while before she could calm down but Solas was patient, simply smiling at her as she released her mirth. “Ho god!” she breathed as she began to slow down. “Oh – god – sorry,” she apologized as she wiped a tear from her eye. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s just...” She giggled again before clearing out her throat. “Hurm. Right. So, um...Trevelyan is basically my opposite?”

“That is another way to look at it,” Solas nodded. “I used ‘parallel’ to describe a connection between the both of you; I haven’t found out everything about him, but the evidence for now seems to point in that direction. It is more deliberate than random mischance, no?”

Ahnnie thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right,” she acknowledged. “So then...do you think he’s still alive? Is he even in Thedas, or...”

“If he is truly your parallel, then he might be somewhere in your world,” Solas supplied. “Assuming, of course, that each parallel must be alive at the same moment. Which I have not yet confirmed,” he quickly added when he saw the horror on the girl’s face.

She nodded. “Of course.” Then, remembering something, she asked, “What about my hand? If he was there when the Breach was created, shouldn’t _he_ be the one to have it? Why did I get it?”

“I have pondered that as well,” Solas admitted. “It is rather puzzling...” He frowned, then shook his head when an explanation was not forthcoming. “But never mind it for now.” He shifted from his spot on the wall, preparing to stand. “In the meantime, what do you say to a little magic practice? See if you have any capabilities for wielding mana?”

At least she knew what mana was, from the fantasy books she read and the few games she’d played. Still, she was doubtful. “What if...I get possessed by a demon?”

He gave her a wry smile. “There are ways to guard oneself against demons and their temptations. If things were as you feared, I would have been possessed long ago.” Upon seeing her remorseful expression, he assured her that he would teach her these techniques if she was able to wield magic that far. “But it would be far in the future before you do reach that point, if ever,” he added. “You come from a world without magic in the first place, and I don’t intend on giving you a full tutelage. Still, a little magic will come in handy, especially for what you have to do.”

“I suppose,” she relented.

“Very well. We’ll start tomorrow after you’ve rested from combat training.”

Ahnnie watched Solas’ disappearing form as he walked away, wondering briefly what such lessons would entail, before reclining back down on the wall to continue her nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polearms need more love. I got the inspiration after learning that the ko-naginata was often used by women during Japan's feudal era.


	8. The Confrontation

“What have you done with Maxwell?”

The question was sharp, accusatory, and succinct – the eyes hostile and stony, two wells of shimmering blue vehemence.

Ahnnie’s mouth worked fruitlessly to make a reply. Her hands grew clammy and her thoughts, scrambled. What should she say? What answer should she give to lessen the damage, now irrevocably done? As the possibilities ran through her mind, she crossed them out one by one. None of them were good. None of them would help. She was no smooth talker; she couldn’t think of the right words to save her life.

How could she have let this happen? What signs had she missed, what clues had she overlooked? It was all so unclear, for the more she thought of them, the more she seemed to see pointers that led to this confrontation. And yet there was no possible way she could have foreseen it, the way things had been going.

* * *

 

It was a bright and glorious morning. The sun shone resplendently upon Haven, casting a warm glow about the Chantry’s stones. A cheery breeze blew through the banners waving upon the Chantry roof and played with the black strands of Ahnnie’s hair, tickling her neck most delightfully.

She stood at the entrance with the Commander from the mountain to her right, Cassandra and a dark haired woman in golden ruffles to her left, and Leliana directly behind her. Her right hand was enclosed around the shaft of her new glaive-guisarme, its silvery blade gleaming sharply in the bright sunlight.

And above them all, draped over the Chantry’s grand archway, billowed a large brown banner. Embroidered upon it in white was a narrow eye emanating sunrays, pierced by a sword.

“Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against he chaos–” The Commander’s proud voice rang out to the crowd gathered below, soldiers and civilians alike. “Those were the words of the late Divine Justinia. She had intended for the Inquisition to broker peace between the mages and templars if the Conclave failed; now, not only has the Conclave been destroyed, but a greater threat hangs in the sky above our heads.”

The people murmured as they looked back towards the mountains north of Haven, where the swirling green light of the Breach illuminated the sky.

“And so it is today that the Inquisition has been reborn. We face not only the continued conflict of the Mage-Templar war, but the Breach, rifts, and demons as well. With the Chantry incapacitated and no other capable authority available, the Inquisition must be the one to bring order back to Thedas.”

“We have at our side someone with the power to make it happen,” Cassandra began. “A person whom the Maker sent to us in our time of need.” She turned to Ahnnie, her hand flaring out at the girl in presentation. “Diễm Anh of the Phạm family, native of another world, the Herald of Andraste!”

Cassandra’s pronunciation was hardly on point. The name sounded more like ‘Yemen’ than the proper ‘Yee-um Un’, missing the roller coaster tone on Diễm, and simply ‘Fom’ without much thought to the deep-down tone of Phạm. Ahnnie couldn’t blame her, though; she preferred an attempt at her full name than giving out her nickname, which would’ve been silly considering the occasion.

A cheer went up from the crowd, but it was not universal – an undercurrent of murmurs whispered beneath the wind, faces falling into confusion as they tried to discern what the Seeker meant by ‘another world’.

“It is no accident that she appeared when we needed her most,” Cassandra went on, “that she came to bear the mark and wield the power to seal the rifts, a feat of magic that surely would have killed any normal person. The Maker saw fit to summon her from her home and his bride, Our Lady Redeemer, led her by hand through the Fade to our troubled world.”

“’Tis true! I saw it with my own eyes!” a soldier cried out.

“Andraste herself, shining in white!” another yelled.

“She is the Prophet’s chosen!” a villager added.

A chorus of similar claims began to rise until Cassandra silenced them with a patient hand. “But we must remember that she is still mortal; while the Breach has been made stable, it will take a great amount of power to seal it away once and for all.”

“For that, the Inquisition must rely on the strength of numbers,” the Commander said. “We have the Herald of Andraste, but we need the support of the people. As it is with any great effort, the more people who work together, the better the results. Will you, Haven, stand with us?”

The resulting cheers were as loud as a population the size of Haven could raise. Hope rang in their voices, spilling forth like rushing waters released by a floodgate, and Ahnnie remembered how a month prior such a response would have not been so forthcoming. Perhaps it was what they needed; after such catastrophic events they would be tired of being frightened and unsure, mourning those who had been lost with a bleak outlook for the future. She had to appreciate how the speech both comforted and empowered them with its compelling rhetoric.

“We thank you all for your support,” the Commander acknowledged. “It is a valuable thing to have, in times such as these. Be assured the Inquisition will not hold it lightly. The road ahead of us is not an easy one–”

“Those roads rarely are,” someone shouted from below.

The Commander chuckled good-naturedly. “Indeed. But we must do what we can. We promise you, Haven, that we will eradicate this threat; there is no alternative, as it is our only option. We either stand together to take down the Breach, or we let it continue and consume our world. What will you have?”

Ahnnie didn’t think she had to guess to know what the people chose.

* * *

 

“You all make me sound like I’m some sort of demigod,” she complained to Cassandra once they were within the Chantry walls, the formal announcement already over with.

“Your otherworldly origins are not helping you, in that case,” Cassandra countered.

 _I guess I deserved that,_ Ahnnie thought as the comment struck home. They had discussed it several days before the announcement was planned and Leliana had suggested some faraway place at the edge of Thedas as a plausible origin, but Ahnnie wouldn’t have it. She wanted to tell the truth. It was as much for her as it was for the people – she was tired of telling lies, and didn’t the citizens of Haven deserve better than that? Okay, it was actually more for her as she argued against Leliana, dashing reason to the ground in favor of her own outlandish but true story.

She had followed everything the two women told her to do. She trained her butt off, doing her best to memorize the techniques Hargrave and Cassandra taught her, bulling through all the pain. She stood nice and straight upon the Chantry steps while the Commander and Cassandra addressed the townspeople, saying nary a word since she had no oratory skills, but being present anyway because that was what was needed. She figured being able to tell the truth about herself was the least they could let her do – and besides, when she returned home, telling people she went back to another world made more sense than saying she just disappeared.

For that was what she planned to do: find a way home.

She did not yet know how she would do it, but she promised herself that she would. It gave her the drive to wake up every morning and go through her routine. Anyone in her place surely would have worked to return to the world they once knew. If not for herself, then for her dogs, her brother and sister – the things she still cared about.

As if to change the subject, Cassandra asked her, “Does the mark still trouble you?”

“No,” she replied. “It glows if I don’t cover it, but that’s not really anything bad.”

The Seeker nodded. “That sounds good.”

 _She still doesn’t believe,_ Ahnnie thought as they walked down the Chantry hall. Indeed, she’d tried telling Cassandra and Leliana about Earth...they didn’t deny her outright, but they didn’t accept her story with open arms, either. They never said it to her face, but she had a feeling they thought she really came from some undiscovered land in Thedas.

They entered the room where Cassandra, Leliana, and Roderick had been having their argument the day she first woke up in Haven as a free person. This time, however, the Chancellor was not inside. Leliana, the Commander, and the woman in ruffles were the occupants instead, and the wooden table in the middle was laid over with a large, detailed map.

All three looked up at the Seeker and the Herald. Cassandra shut the door behind them and gestured towards the Commander first. “You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Commander Cullen nodded towards Ahnnie in acknowledgment. “It was only for a moment on the field,” he commented. “I’m pleased you survived.”

 _Well, I’m pleased you’re not upset with me,_ Ahnnie thought, smiling back politely.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,” Cassandra went on, introducing the woman in ruffles.

Lady Josephine’s lips curved into a smile, showing the daintiest traces of pearly white teeth. “I’ve heard much,” she remarked, her exotic accent rolling off her tongue in a pleasant way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Ahnnie couldn’t help but think of how pretty she looked. Coupled with her smooth voice, it seemed no wonder that she was the one to handle the Inquisition’s diplomacy.

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra concluded.

Ahnnie nodded, but it was then she realized that she didn’t exactly know what Leliana did. It was never given to her.

Leliana was beginning to explain that. “My position here involves a degree of...”

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra interrupted.

Leliana blinked. “Yes,” she sighed, exasperated. “Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

 _Is that how they joke with each other?_ Ahnnie wondered. It was difficult to tell from the looks on both women’s faces. Putting that aside, she turned to the three people across the table – two newly introduced, one reintroduced – and said, “It’s nice to meet you all. So, Cassandra said you have a plan...” She looked questioningly over at the Seeker.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra explained.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana put in.

Commander Cullen turned to her, his brows furrowing. “And I still disagree,” he groused. “The Templars could serve just as well.” His voice carried a touch of resentment within it, as if they had had this argument many times before and they still wouldn’t consider his idea.

Cassandra sighed. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark–”

“Might destroy us all,” Cullen interjected. “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so–”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana dismissed.

The Commander turned back towards the red haired spymaster, and when he spoke, it was with the air of an insulted man. “ _I_ was a templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Ahnnie pursed her lips, feeling awkward about the argument unfolding around her. Before either of them had the chance to say anything else, she asked, “Well...why not both? Surely they can put their differences aside to help with the Breach? I mean, think about it,” she added. “Mages have the magical power, Templars have the demon slaying skills – it’d be absolutely perfect!”

Josephine, who seemed to have stayed a neutral party in the others’ disagreement, gave her a pitying smile. “If only it were that easy,” she lamented, “but unfortunately, neither group will even speak to _us_ yet, much less each other. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.”

 _Why am I not surprised?_ she sighed _._ “I guess they still think it was all my fault.”

“That is not the entirety of it any longer,” Josephine corrected her. “You are aware of how some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’? That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra remarked in disgust.

Ahnnie supposed she couldn’t blame them. If someone back on Earth went around touting themselves as, say, the ‘Herald of Mary’ or ‘Herald of Jesus’, many churches would find that to be blasphemy, too. A supposed magic mark on the hand would make it all the more heretical. It pained her that that was the only thing she could identify with, though.

“It limits our options,” Josephine went on. “Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

Ahnnie frowned. “So putting the mages and templars aside...can the Chantry do anything to us? And why are they not worried about the Breach? Like, isn’t that an even bigger threat to pretty much everybody?”

Cullen shrugged his great armored shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry. The Chantry have only words at their disposal–”

“And yet, they may bury us with them,” Josephine pointed out.

“–and while they do know the Breach is a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it.”

“Might I also add that the Chantry is telling everyone you’ll only make it worse?” Josephine put in.

Seeing the exasperation on Ahnnie’s face, Leliana swooped in to rescue the mood. “There _is_ something you can do,” the spymaster began. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Ahnnie perked up at this, wondering if she heard Leliana correctly. “A Chantry cleric? Haven’t they denounced me, though?”

“I understand she is a reasonable sort,” Leliana said. “Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters?”

 _True,_ Ahnnie nodded. The nuns here had been quite accepting of her as well. If there were any who disliked her, they hid it skillfully. “Okay...I guess I can give it a shot...where is she?”

Ahnnie had expected ‘just outside Haven’ or ‘somewhere in the town’; she didn’t expect Leliana to point to the map on the table at a spot that seemed _many_ miles to the southeast of Haven. “You’ll find her tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana explained, as if it were merely a matter of running an errand at the local grocery store.

“What...all the way _there?_ ” She didn’t mean to be rude, but she pointed to where Leliana’s finger had been. “How long will that even take?”

“Within the week on horseback, given favorable terrain and conditions,” Leliana calculated. “It’s not that far.”

 _‘Not that far’. Leliana, if it has to take us about a week to get anywhere, then yes, it’s far!_ Of course, she didn’t say that. She simply stayed quiet and resigned herself to the fact that this was what people considered ‘not that far’ in the era of horses and wagons. With a sigh, she looked up to face the others. “Right. When do we leave?” Then she frowned. “That is...I’m not going alone, right?”

“Of course not,” Cassandra assured her. “I will accompany you along with Varric and Solas.”

That brightened things considerably. Not that she disliked the Seeker, but Varric and Solas seemed less cold towards her. Their very presences would make the rigors of the road much more enjoyable.

“As to when we leave,” Cassandra said, breaking through her thoughts, “there are still a few things to arrange, but we should be ready to go within four day’s time.”

From across the table, Josephine turned to Ahnnie, a worried expression in her eyes. “Oh, I apologize...Lady Yiemen–”

“Just call me Ahnnie,” she interrupted.

“Ahnnie,” Josephine corrected herself, “I almost forgot to mention...” Her dark eyes flicked nervously towards Cassandra before returning to the black haired girl, and she said, “Lord Robert Trevelyan, second son of Bann Trevelyan, will be making a...visit, to Haven. I had hoped you would have left by then, but...”

“I still have some business to attend to with Leliana,” Cassandra said. “There are certain plans we need to put in order regarding the Hinterlands; whatever else we can do there had best be done in one trip.”

“Yes, of course,” the ambassador nodded.

A feeling of dread began to weigh down on Ahnnie. “Why is he coming here?” she asked weakly.

“Supposedly he is coming with supplies to aid Haven after the disastrous events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Josephine began. “Not that supplies are low, but many had made a pilgrimage here for the Conclave, and he simply wants to do what he can as a pious follower of Andraste. His family are known for their religious devotion as well as their connections to the Chantry, after all.”

Considering what had just been discussed, that seemed like more trouble headed their way. “But that’s not all there is to it,” Ahnnie surmised unhappily.

“Yes, well...he may or may not be coming here to inquire into the disappearance of his youngest brother...”

Cassandra’s face darkened. “Yet another move on the Chancellor’s part.”

“Lord Robert didn’t state it explicitly, of course, but it is quite the coincidence that he asked to speak with me during his stay,” Josephine rushed to explain. To Ahnnie, she assured, “Though the Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, my family has been maintaining friendly relations with the Trevelyans for quite some time. Therefore, I can handle any negotiations. However–”Ahnnie winced“–if, and it is _highly_ unlikely, but if he does ask you anything...you must deny it completely.”

“Explain ‘deny’,” Ahnnie practically squeaked.

“Deny that you saw his brother in the Fade,” Josephine instructed. “The matter of the vision at the Breach cannot be helped, but you must do what you can to refute entirely even the smallest glimpse.”

“Claim that you were confused,” Leliana added, “and only mistook the man in the Fade for Trevelyan in a moment of distress. Otherwise the Chantry will be able to build upon the rumor of you kidnapping or killing him to make your way here. Partly why I wanted you to avoid saying you were from another world in the first place.”

She could still hear the disappointment in Leliana’s voice, but ignored it.

“The best course of action, though, is to avoid a confrontation altogether,” Cullen put in matter-of-factly. “Simply make yourself scarce; he can’t approach you if he can’t find you. He also won’t come close if it meant people would see him speaking with you.”

Ahnnie nodded. _It probably wouldn’t look good for someone with connections to the Chantry,_ she thought. _So basically, I should avoid him or stick to crowded areas._

“If you follow their advice, you should have nothing to worry about when we leave for the Hinterlands,” Cassandra said with finality, ending the discussion there. “He will be gone long before we return.” She then told Ahnnie to go to Hargrave and make up for the lost time spent at the announcement; Ahnnie readily obeyed, though she still worried about what Josephine had told her.

* * *

 

“Here it is, Lady Ahnnie. Just as you requested.”

“Perfect! Thanks, Nala.”

“Ooh, can I see, can I see?” Netta begged.

Ahnnie held out the item for her. “It’s just the horsehair bundle I asked you to pick for me, remember?”

The little girl held the coarse and frizzy tassel carefully in her hands. “You changed the color,” she observed, fingering a lock of the horsehair speculatively.

Ahnnie couldn’t help but laugh. “Not me – Nala did. She dyed the horsehair red.”

The elven girl blushed. “’Twas nothing, really...but I’m afraid I didn’t get it exactly right. It looks too much of a dark rust...”

“Hey, rust is fine,” Ahnnie shrugged. “The horsehair was brown to begin with, so I knew it wouldn’t turn out completely red. It’s just what I need, though. Can I stick it on?”

Nala nodded. “Just be careful not to get any sap on your ladyship’s fingers,” she quickly warned.

Ahnnie nodded and opened out the strip of gauze to which the horsehair was attached; when she first received her glaive-guisarme, she was immediately beset with an idea that she commissioned the help of Netta and Nala to accomplish. First, she asked Netta to gather as much horsehair as possible; with Flissa’s permission, of course. Second, she took the hair and asked Nala if there was any way to dye it red, and also to stick it all together onto something for a tassel. The elven girl assured her there were berries she knew of from which she could attain the pigment and set to work on the horsehair, having now finished after three days of dying and gluing. The only thing left to do was to attach it below the head’s socket.

All three girls sat on a wall outside the tavern, weapons being forbidden to be brandished openly within tavern walls. Ahnnie had the glaive-guisarme standing between her knees, slanted in such a way so that the blade’s socket was level with her eyes. She pursed her lips as she observed it for any possible chink to slide the gauze through. She realized it would have been easier if the tassel was attached before the blacksmith finished the weapon, but she hadn’t thought of it back then and even if she did, she would have been too timid to make a special request of the blacksmith.

 _It’s screwed tight,_ she observed. _Hopefully, the gauze is thin enough..._ she bit down on her lower lip as she tried to edge the gauze through. It went in, much to her delight, and she pushed it in deeper; when the gauze went in as far as it could, she made sure it was enclosed around the circumference of the shaft, pressing down on it to make sure the pine sap stuck, before taking a piece of string from her pocket and tying it as tightly as she could around the horsehair closest to the socket. When she finished, she stood up and told the girls to stand back.

With several practiced movements, Ahnnie lowered herself into a fighting stance and jabbed at an invisible enemy, thrusting and slashing the weapon as savagely as she could to test the bonds of the horsehair. When she finished, she straightened up and observed it carefully; _it hasn’t loosened and the string is still in place._ With a smile, she put the glaive-guisarme against the wall and hugged Netta and Nala tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed, and then released them.

Netta laughed while Nala grew even redder. “Now your spear is pretty!” Netta exclaimed.

Ahnnie ruffled the little girl’s head. “It’s not a spear, silly,” she teased. “And the horsehair’s not just a decoration; elite Chinese warriors put tassels on their polearms so that when they fought, the hair would flare out, confusing the enemy.” She figured its addition wouldn’t hurt, especially since inexperience was her handicap. She needed to do all she could to balance the odds in her favor; red was also a distracting color and perhaps a nice oriental touch to her weapon, which she had been surprised to find reminiscent in shape to the Chinese guandao.

“Very impressive,” an unfamiliar female voice commented. “You don’t see many glaives outside of Orlais.”

Ahnnie looked up and saw a slim young woman in traveling clothes approaching them, a thoughtful hand cupping her chin as the other hand balanced her elbow. “Uh, thanks,” she said, wondering who this woman was – most villagers wouldn’t approach her without showing some form of reverence, and they certainly never commented on her weapon. She also seemed different from them somehow; more delicate and cultured. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” Ahnnie remarked, already starting to guess the dreaded answer.

The young woman smiled. “Eliana. I’m part of Lord Trevelyan’s entourage.” She tilted her head questioningly. “And you must be...” She gasped, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes widened in excitement. “...the Herald of Andraste! Oh, why didn’t I think of it before?”

Ahnnie smiled, trying to ignore the fear at the back of her head. _I thought everyone with Lord Trevelyan was roomed in the Chantry?_ She wouldn’t have come outside otherwise. The bann’s son had arrived early that morning in a flourish of wagons and people, large enough to make an impressive entourage but small enough to be accommodated in the moderate church building. Then she remembered that it didn’t stop them from going to places like the tavern. _I’m so stupid._

“You should have known,” Netta reprimanded Eliana. “Her skin is gold, and she–”

Ahnnie interrupted the child with a nervous laugh. “That’s, um, an exaggeration. I mean, don’t...well, uh...I’m just a person,” she finished lamely, too nervous to think straight.

Eliana waved it away casually. “Oh no, it’s quite all right. I’ve heard the rumors and I knew some of them were far-fetched. Still, they are right about one thing; you _are_ young.” She gave the girls a smile and said, “I didn’t mean to disturb your fun. I was just on my way to the tavern. I’ll get out of your hair now; it was an honor meeting you, Herald of Andraste.”

Ahnnie blinked. “You don’t hate me?”

Eliana jolted. “Hate – no! I would not dare!” When she realized what Ahnnie was talking about, she said, “I believe you are truly the Herald of Andraste. My master may not, but that doesn’t mean I have no opinions of my own. Don’t tell him that, of course.”

“I won’t,” Ahnnie promised. She returned the young woman’s friendly smile as she made her way to the Singing Maiden’s door. Netta giggled and gave Eliana a wave while Nala timidly stood aside and bowed her head once in deference.

 _I hope I never have to encounter him in the first place,_ Ahnnie thought with a shudder. With luck, the next three days would pass by quickly and without incident.

* * *

 

“Now, hook the blade!”

Ahnnie thrust the head of her glaive towards the sword, trapping it between the reverse side and the tapered hook jutting from it, the part that the Orlesians referred to as the ‘guisarme’.

“And what do you do next?” Hargrave quizzed.

Ahnnie gave her answer by twisting the glaive-guisarme in a sweeping downward motion, forcing the trapped blade to bend along until it flew out of the opposing soldier’s hands. Disarmed, the soldier stepped back, signaling the end of that segment of training.

“Very good,” Hargrave praised. “You remembered the answer to each question this time.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ahnnie thanked stiffly. That was how Hargrave preferred for her to speak to him when she was his student and not the Herald of Andraste. While she mostly put on a blank face, she couldn’t help but remember the many times she had gotten the answers to his ‘questions’ wrong and suffered for it with extra exercises.

“You are dismissed,” he then said.

So she was getting off early for once. Brimming with relief, and yet too wary of the Corporal to show it, she barked, “Yes, sir!” and bowed briefly before strapping her weapon onto her back and turning to leave the training grounds. The bow was more of her personal touch, a remnant of her earlier childhood days when she had to cross her arms and bow in formal greeting to older family members. She never meant to do it, but every time she met or left Hargrave, she felt an inner compulsion to dip her torso in addition to yelling out the military acknowledgment.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Ahnnie bounded for the Singing Maiden’s stables to say hello to Lady, perhaps even play with Netta a bit. She was tired, but not anywhere near as exhausted as she had been that first week of training. She could hardly believe it, but her body was growing accustomed to all this activity. Where she used to be constantly sore, she was now occasionally sore; the exercise was even enjoyable at times.

She rounded the bend that led her down to Haven’s second tier; but just as she made the curve, she saw the shape of a man’s chest too late to dodge and smacked right into his dark tunic. With a startled yelp, she fell back on the ground, the shaft of her polearm digging painfully into her spine.

 _Shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._ Ahnnie shot up, angling herself to her feet a little awkwardly because of the long polearm behind her, and began stuttering out her apologies to the big man as fast as she could.

For when she laid eyes on his face, she knew that she had just made a big mistake.

Lord Robert Trevelyan glanced down upon the smaller girl, his stoic face denoting little of his thoughts. It did not help that his aquiline features and angular, ice blue eyes made him look even fiercer; kind of like Cassandra, she thought, although his face was less severe at the cheeks. Unlike Ahnnie, he had not been very affected by the sudden bump, so he was able to keep to his feet with perhaps a slight stumble back.

“Hmm,” he grunted. The lord pushed a stray blond curl from the corner of his left eye and walked off a moment later, making Ahnnie wonder whether she should be lucky he spared no words for her or humiliated that he considered her too unimportant to bother with. At any rate, he had not asked about his brother, which she supposed was a good thing.

“Here comes the Herald!” Varric greeted her jovially when she entered the Singing Maiden a moment later, just after storing her weapon in a small closet space Flissa permitted her to use whenever she came by. She intended to make for the side door to the stables, but upon seeing Varric cheerfully waving her over, she shrugged and joined him at his table instead. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he grinned as he laid his mug of ale down.

Ahnnie smiled weakly. “More like the lord did...” When he didn’t get her joke, she clarified, “I just bumped into Lord Trevelyan. Like, literally.”

Varric simply shrugged. “Worse things have happened. Was he upset?”

“I...think? He stared at me for a while, then he said ‘Hmm’, and then he left.”

“Yup,” Varric nodded, “he’s upset.”

Ahnnie gulped. “How do you know?”

“Nobles; the very masters of passive-aggressiveness. I mean, there’re different kinds of them,” Varric added, “but they all have that talent down to some degree. You’ll know once you deal with them more often.”

She made a face that denoted she didn’t wish to deal with them at all. A serving maid then came by and reverently asked the Herald if she wanted anything to quench her thirst or sate her hunger; she frowned upon hearing her title and waved the maid away almost tersely, displeased with all the trouble this Herald business seemed to be giving her.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” Varric asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ahnnie shrugged. “I’m fine, really.” There was plenty of water back at her cabin, and she even had a pot she could use to cook up something edible from the rations stored there. Except for that first meal in the tavern, Ahnnie had been able to eat at the Chantry and later, on her own when she discovered the pot, though she had mostly relied on the Chantry since training started because of the little time she had. She supposed dining with the nuns was not an option anymore, now that Lord Trevelyan was staying there.

The serving maid left and she fell into small talk with Varric. It was comforting, at least, and she was able to get in a laugh or two. Then her ears were suddenly assaulted by a cringeworthy, high-pitched squeal that made her almost fall back on her own chair.

“Is it really...Are you _the_ Varric Tethras? Author of _Hard in Hightown_?”

Ahnnie blinked, suddenly realizing that the squeal earlier was that of a Thedosian fangirl. _I guess they’re the same on Earth and here,_ she jokingly thought. When she turned around, her surprise took a double hit to find that this fangirl was none other than Eliana.

“The very same,” Varric answered with a flourish.

“I knew it!” Eliana exclaimed. When she realized half the tavern was staring at her, she cleared her throat and said, less loudly, “I mean, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m E– ” her voice caught. “Eliana,” she corrected with a clearance of her throat. “Really, I–”

The dwarf gestured for her to sit, and the young woman happily complied.

“First, I meet the Herald of Andraste,” Eliana began, her voice brimming with excitement, “and now I meet my all-time favorite author! I am just stunned right now, I...!” She trailed off, breathless, before continuing in a smaller voice, as if she couldn’t contain herself, “This has been the best trip. _Ever_.”

Varric chuckled and Ahnnie smiled, a little grateful for once that someone else elicited the more extreme reaction. But this newest revelation made her turn to the dwarf curiously. “You never told me you wrote a book,” she began.

Eliana stared at her in shock. “You mean to say you’ve never read any of his works?”

“Then, you’ve written more than one?” Ahnnie asked Varric.

Varric put up two hands defensively. “It’s not like I was hiding it from you. You just never asked.”

 _Well, now I’m curious!_ “What kind of books do you write?”

Taking a swig from his mug, the dwarf answered, “I’ve tried my hand at a few genres. My crime serials are my most popular. _Hard in Hightown_ , as this young lady mentioned.” He gestured with his head towards Eliana. “Guards breaking the rules to get things done. _The Tale of the Champion_ is the most famous thing I’ve ever written,” he remarked, “or infamous, maybe. I started a romance serial once, _Swords and Shields..._ but let’s be honest, I don’t have a knack for romances. Most of my stories end in tragedy.” Varric shrugged. “Probably that says something unfortunate about me personally.”

“Naw, you’re the most cheerful person I know,” Ahnnie assured him, but when he smiled in return, there seemed to be more than she knew going on behind his eyes; she quickly wondered whether she had said the wrong thing or hit a sensitive spot, but since he didn’t say anything, she decided against openly apologizing.

“You have not lived until you’ve read one of his books,” Eliana said to Ahnnie, snapping her out of those thoughts. “In fact, I brought _Hard in Hightown_ along with me – it’s so good, I’m reading it for...the hundredth time, really,” she admitted. “How about I let you borrow it?”

Ahnnie stared at her, wide-eyed. “You would...let me borrow it?”

Eliana shrugged. “Why not? I doubt this place sells it.” She gestured vaguely at the tavern, although Ahnnie understood she meant to say the town of Haven, specifically. “I didn’t see a bookstore, not that anyone here besides the Chantry sisters knows how to read...no offense.”

“I’ll be leaving soon, though,” Ahnnie said, “and you aren’t staying long, either. I couldn’t possibly impose on you.”

Eliana tilted her head inquisitively. “You’re going somewhere?”

“In two days, I have to leave for the Hinterlands.”

The young woman nodded slowly, her face thoughtful. “I see...” A moment later, she looked back up at Ahnnie and said, “It won’t be too much trouble. You can give it back to me before you go; a little bit of reading is better than no reading at all. It’s that good of a book. Hopefully, you can pick up a copy later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! Of course, I’d like to get it signed by the author first.” Eliana turned to Varric hopefully.

The dwarf smiled. “Anything for a fan.”

* * *

 

_Mana is not a thing to be taken lightly. Many mages have made the mistake of becoming overconfident, rushing themselves into powerful spells believing that they can handle the magic...true mastery lies in patience and understanding, as much as it does in ambition._

Solas’ words rang in Ahnnie’s mind as she sat on the steps outside her cabin, half-lidded eyes cast on the stone beneath her feet and her body held in a relaxed posture as she focused on the breathing exercise that he taught her.

Funny how he used the words ‘true mastery’ when, as he said specifically, he did not intend to teach her fully and she might not be able to practice magic fully anyways. However, she caught the gist of his words, and could see the rationale behind starting slowly. _Was this how he learned to use his magic?_ she wondered as she inhaled and exhaled in a slow, deliberate pattern.

At first, she had been unable to feel anything; it was just a boring and empty practice, kind of like meditating; but unlike meditating, her mind was allowed a measure of awareness, and after the first few times she was able to streamline her thinking along with the inner calm that she would feel perhaps five minutes into the breathing. Eventually, she began to feel a tiny spark...a little pinprick of tingling energy hidden deep inside her...and every time she did so, her mark would glow a little more brightly.

When she asked if it was mana, Solas nodded and pointed out that, with the mark connecting her to the Fade, she was able to tap into a little well of it, just as he’d surmised. As for the power that allowed her to seal the rifts, perhaps that was something exclusive when it came to tears in the Veil. He soon had her doing the breathing exercises again, only this time he encouraged her to try to move the mana to different parts of her body, her hands specifically.

Ahnnie’s eyes went wide and she jumped back when the mark suddenly sizzled and brightened. Almost at once, her mana concentration broke and the magic fled back into her center. She looked warily at her palm, glad to see the mark quickly returning to normal, yet still very shaken.

 _I could barely get any in my right hand,_ she thought, reflecting on what had just happened, _and I was never able to move it that far before...it’s almost like...like my left hand just_ sucked _it all up for itself._

“That’s enough magic practice for now,” she murmured to herself as she tried to rid her ears of the electric sound. “Solas would understand.”

Her hand reached behind her for a hard, leatherbound book with a picture of a muscular man under a full moon painted or printed on the cover; she wasn’t too sure of Thedas’ printing technology to tell.

“Who’s Solas?” a cheerful voice asked from behind her, causing her to almost drop the book in shock.

“Eliana!” Ahnnie exclaimed with a laugh when she turned around. “Gosh, you scared me.”

The young woman sat down beside her, brushing a strand of brunette hair back under her cap. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I just saw you sitting here with _Hard in Hightown_ and wondered how you liked it.”

 _Was she walking around here?_ Ahnnie wondered. She thought she would avoid any encounters with Lord Trevelyan by sticking close to her cabin, as he most likely wouldn’t know where it was located. There was only a day left before she would depart for the Hinterlands and she didn’t want to risk spoiling her luck. Of course, she wasn’t purposefully avoiding Eliana, so it was a pleasant surprise that the young woman found her way here. “Solas is a mage who’s helping us,” Ahnnie explained. “And yeah, I really like it! I’m excited to find out who killed Magistrate Dunwald – his wife seems kind of sketchy.”

“Varric’s writing is so vivid. You just feel yourself being pulled into the story, like it’s actually happening, don’t you?”

Ahnnie nodded.

Eliana sighed contentedly. “And now I have it signed, in his own hand! My friends will be so jealous.”

Indeed, scrawled onto the first page of the book were the runic letters that made up Verric Tethras’ name, written boldly yet eloquently in crisp black ink.

“Do you miss Ostwick?” Ahnnie then asked.

“Not really,” Eliana confessed. “I’m just going on a short trip with Lord Trevelyan and will be back soon, so it’s not like I’m homesick.”

“Oh.” _Well, that was a stupid question..._ “So, what do you do for him?”

She shrugged. “Not much. I guess you could say I’m part of his guard, though here I’m just helping out with distributing the supplies, fetching this or that...kind of boring, really. Of course, not when I’m in the Herald of Andraste’s or Varric Tethras’ company,” she added with a knowing smile. When Ahnnie blushed, Eliana asked her, “So what do _you_ do, as the Herald?”

“Me? Well, I...” She rubbed the back of her head nervously. “Training. I go through extensive training early in the day with Corporal Hargrave and Lady Cassandra so that I know how to fight. Every other day, I also have horseback riding, which I just finished two hours ago,” she chuckled while rubbing her sore lower back. “And some time ago, I had literacy studies with Sister Magdalene because I couldn’t read the words here...but it’s done now, so those are just the three things I’m occupied with.” Ahnnie shrugged. “Kind of boring, really.”

“Is that all?” Eliana asked, as if she couldn’t quite believe that was the extent of it.

“Yup,” Ahnnie nodded. She wasn’t sure if she should let out that she was also practicing some magic, however small, so she pointedly said nothing of it.

“Huh. Who would’ve thought.” Eliana shook her head. “Sorry, it’s just – the rumors they have of you back home. Supposedly, you fight demons every day, performing heroic acts left and right, or you’re plotting to raze the Chantry down to the ground, mercilessly slaughtering innocent Chantry sisters and brothers.”

“Um...”

“Like I said, I knew some of them were far-fetched,” Eliana smiled. “It’s good to be able to see the truth for myself. And to be honest with you...it’s not bad. Not exciting, not horrifying, just regular, like anyone else – and I kind of like it that way.”

Ahnnie slowly smiled back. “Yeah. Me too.”

* * *

 

_An immediate matter has rendered me unavailable for sword practice today. Meet with Lady Josephine instead, as she is to begin teaching you some basics in diplomacy. She can be found in her office at the Chantry._

_-Cassandra_

Ahnnie finished reading the note, slowly mouthing the words along, and lowered it with a stunned look on her face. “Is this true?” she asked Nala in a quiet tone, so that Corporal Hargrave, having just dismissed her and standing nearby, would not hear the fear in her voice.

“I would not lie to your ladyship,” Nala whispered back. “The Lady Seeker pressed it into my hand as I was making my way across the square and bade me find you after your practice...” She fidgeted. “If you’ll please excuse me, I must get back to Master Adan at once.”

Ahnnie nodded. “Right. Sorry.”

“Oh no, ‘twas nothing, Lady Ahnnie!” Nala assured her in that trademark skittish manner of hers before giving her a “By your leave” and rushing off in another direction.

Once alone, Ahnnie sighed. It was not the idea of diplomacy lessons with Josephine that she feared, but the thought of going into the Chantry where Trevelyan and the rest of his entourage were... _Would I bump into him? What if he sees me? Oh...didn’t Cassandra know any of this?_

Yet she knew it wasn’t Cassandra’s fault. They were all well aware, though it was possible that with the date of departure coming tomorrow, they were assured that nothing untoward might happen; that, and she had been thoroughly instructed in what to say. It would mean they put a certain amount of trust in her and the thought made her balk. _I mean, I know what to say, but...will stuttering make it worse?_

She couldn’t stop all these thoughts from racing in her head as she went back to her cabin to deposit her glaive-guisarme there before making her way to the Chantry. Once inside, she asked a Chantry sister, one whom she knew to be friendly with her from the times she’d taken her meals there, for the location of Lady Josephine’s office. The nun led her to a door leading into a neat little room lit with cheerful torchlight.

“Ah, there you are, Lady Ahnnie!” Josephine greeted her. “Please, have a seat. Now, I know this has come on short notice, but let us see what we can learn...”

An hour later, her head swimming with all the do’s and don'ts of speaking with nobles, she exited Josephine’s office feeling more than a little overwhelmed. _How does she even keep track of all those rules?_ Ahnnie thought, her hand behind her in the act of closing the office door. _And she looks like she even enjoys it–_

A sudden shadow looming over her filled her with an ominous dread. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and looked up ever so slowly at the figure blocking the light, hoping with all her heart it was just one of the guards...

The cold blue eyes of Lord Robert Trevelyan looked down upon her, making her want to gulp but she didn’t, for fear of portraying an unease that might be misinterpreted; especially after learning all those things from Josephine. And if what the ambassador told her was true, then she couldn’t just stand there gawking silently at the lord either.

After a few silent seconds, Ahnnie cleared her throat. “Lord Trevelyan,” she began with a nod in his direction.

The corner of his lip twitched ever-so-lightly in what was either amusement or contempt. “Yemen,” he said a moment later, and she was wondering why he said that until she remembered he was saying her name and not the Arabic country of Yemen. That mispronunciation of her name still took some getting used to.

She smiled politely and bowed her head again. “By your leave,” she said as pleasantly as possible, parroting Nala. “My lord,” she added, and ducked past the big man.

“No insistence upon using your formal title?” he suddenly asked, freezing her again. The tone he used was like that of a teacher reprimanding a truant student, and it worked. “How humble, for a blasphemer.”

According to Josephine, Lord Trevelyan had not just openly insulted her, but he was showing – at least, with no one else around – that he thought little of her reputation and was not afraid to wound her with the realization. Unfortunately, Josephine had not taught her any useful quips in these situations; she just demonstrated them.

“I have never been prideful to begin with,” she drawled out carefully to keep from stuttering. “People just started calling me that after I...” She cleared her throat. “...sealed the first rift at the Breach.”

“Really, now,” he said coolly, and Ahnnie mentally facepalmed when she realized what she’d done.

_You stupid idiot! You mentioned the damn Breach – now he’ll have no choice but to mention his brother!_

Her heart hammered in her chest and she almost forgot to breathe. With a quick inhalation, she turned back towards the lord and smiled as cordially as she could. “I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer,” she apologized just as slowly as she’d spoken. “I wish you a good day, my lord.”

“Yes, of course,” he said in the politest alternative to a sneer. “I trust you have many things to do. You are a busy person, after all.”

She knew she should not listen to his barbed words, but somehow they hurt, like an uncomfortable pin sticking from a chair she happened to be sitting on. _Nonsense,_ she thought as she walked. _I should be relieved. He’s not dragging it on..._

“E–” Lord Trevelyan suddenly said, and Ahnnie froze yet again. Almost instinctively, she turned back around, although every voice in her mind was screaming against the decision.

 _Oh, it’s just Eliana,_ Ahnnie thought upon seeing the young woman’s lithe figure appear in the hall. _Maybe he was going to order her to do something? But why was he cut off?_ She turned back around and went on her way. _Perhaps she just knew what he wanted her to do before he said it...Josephine did say nobles often acted like they expected people to read their minds..._

She was halfway to her cabin, replaying the icy encounter in her mind on repeat, when a hand took hold of her shoulder. Ahnnie gasped and even let out a little scream, for she suddenly envisioned Lord Robert Trevelyan at her back, preparing to either interrogate her on his brother’s whereabouts or to kill her on the spot with his sword.

It was just Eliana.

“I’m sorry,” the brunette apologized. “Are you all right?”

Ahnnie stared at her, wide-mouthed, before letting out an anxious laugh. “N-no, I’m sorry...I thought you were...someone else.”

“Lord Robert Trevelyan, by any chance?”

Ahnnie nodded. “Yeah...”

“I thought you’d had an encounter back there,” Eliana said. “When I came in and I saw the both of you...I know my lord when he’s being smug. I’ve seen that face.”

Ahnnie shook her head. “It’s okay, I was just...I’m just not used to dealing with nobles yet. I guess I handled it pretty well if he didn’t get too upset...not that I’d know...” She looked back at the young woman questioningly. “I’m not holding you up from something, am I? I think Lord Trevelyan needed you...”

“Oh, it’s already been done,” Eliana said, waving the matter away. “Are you busy with anything?”

“No, I’m just heading for my cabin to take a break.”

Eliana seemed to brighten at this. “You have a cabin here? Is it too much to ask to take a peek?”

Ahnnie chuckled sheepishly. “Oh, it’s not anything really...just a one-room structure. Probably even smaller than where you live in Ostwick.”

“Still, I’d like to see where the Herald of Andraste lives!” She looked around, as if to make sure no one was looking. “None of my colleagues are around, and the townspeople are scarce.”

“Okay...” What was the harm? Eliana had been nothing but friendly towards her. Perhaps this sudden interest was meant to make her feel better, and she had to admit that it was working. _Makes me remember when I still had school friends to bring over,_ Ahnnie thought wistfully. Eliana did not seem that much older than her anyway...twenty-five at most.

They both walked the remaining way down the path to Ahnnie’s cabin, conversing animatedly about the latest developments Ahnnie read of in _Hard in Hightown_ or their favorite characters. Ahnnie personally thought she could relate to Jevlan, the clumsy green recruit who’d just joined the guard force; Eliana confessed a certain interest in the intriguing character of Lady Marielle, the dead Magistrate Dunwald’s pretty wife.

As for Donnen Brennokovic, neither could deny that he was a universal favorite character, and not just because he was the main one – his gritty determination and hard wit made him every bit the salty guardsman whose unscrupulous methods promised to save the day where abiding by the rules wouldn’t. Whenever Ahnnie read his dialogue, she imagined him speaking in Varric’s smoky voice.

“Well, here we are,” Ahnnie said as they approached her cabin door. She unlocked it and pushed it open. “Don’t get your hopes too high, though.”

Both young women stepped in, Ahnnie taking off her shoes out of habit while Eliana gazed fascinated around the tiny one-room space, as if it held a chamberful of treasure.

“Please, just make yourself at home,” she told Eliana as she made sure the door was shut; it wouldn’t do for the chill wind to blow it open later. “Are you thirsty? I can make some tea...don’t know if you’ll like it though...” She walked past the young woman towards a corner in the room where the kettle lay and rummaged through a sack for some tea leaves. Then, just as she rose to go get water from a barrel, Eliana gave her a hard blue stare.

“Now that we’re alone, tell me: what have you done with Maxwell?”

* * *

 

Which brought them back to the present. Ahnnie was no Sherlock, but she was able to deduce somewhat that Maxwell was the youngest Trevelyan’s name. Why would Eliana ask about him otherwise, and in such a condescending tone?

She lowered the kettle onto the flat top of a sack. As she processed all the events of the previous few days, she thought with dry amusement about how she’d done all she could to avoid Lord Trevelyan’s questioning and yet still managed to end up under scrutiny by one of his household.

“Maxwell was his name, wasn’t it?” she asked Eliana quietly.

“ _Is_ ,” the brunette insisted harshly. “He’s not dead. Not unless you killed him.”

Ahnnie cursed herself for that mishap; though Maxwell Trevelyan was most likely dead, it was impolite to speak of him that way to someone with connections to him. _Josephine would not be pleased. "_ I’m sorry, Eliana, I didn’t mean–”

“Evelyn,” Eliana cut her off. “Evelyn Trevelyan, only daughter of Bann Trevelyan.”

Ahnnie’s eyes widened. “What...?”

“You wouldn’t have been so open with me otherwise.” Evelyn smiled coldly. “Did you think this ‘secret’ of yours wouldn't come to light? When Chancellor Roderick wrote to Father, he was absolutely livid.” She crossed her arms, the harsh blue of her eyes reminding Ahnnie of Robert’s ice cold orbs. “You are not a demon, as the Chancellor says, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hiding anything. I’m a spirit medium; I should know.”

A mage! Even worse! Ahnnie hadn’t heard Solas mention spirit mediums, but she was sure if Eliana – or Evelyn – specialized in something with spirits in it, she was most likely a mage by Thedosian standards. _Can she tell if I’m hiding something?_ Ahnnie wondered. _Or was that in relation to my not being a demon?_

“Well, Herald of Andraste?” she asked, and this time, there was a sarcastic emphasis on the title. “What have you got to say for yourself?” A few moments later, Evelyn’s bravado disappeared as an incensing thought made her hands clench. “I swear, if you killed him...”

“I didn’t kill anybody,” Ahnnie hurriedly said. “In fact, I didn’t even see–”

Yes, she had been about to follow up Josephine and Leliana on their advice. No, she could not go through with it. The situation scared her, and she was loathe to think of what Evelyn’s wrath could bring down upon her even with no staff by her side (for Solas had said it was possible for mages to manipulate mana without a staff), but suddenly she thought of how Evelyn was doing this because she cared for Maxwell – how Lord Robert was here in the first place, because the Trevelyan family was concerned. They were nobles and cared about their names, but at the core of it, they must have really loved Maxwell...or at least, Evelyn did.

In that case, could she really bring herself to lie to Evelyn? To trample on a grieving family’s emotions to save her own skin?

“What? What didn’t you see?” Evelyn prompted her when no answer was forthcoming.

Ahnnie opened and closed her mouth, her conscience still waging a tennis match between the two options: deny, or accept. Deny, or accept. In the end, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Okay!” she blurted out rather forcefully. “Sorry, that was more for me than at you.” Opening her eyes again, she looked up at Evelyn. “What I meant to say was...I didn’t do anything to your brother. But I did see him in the Fade.”

With a deep breath, she continued: “All I know is, after I got swept into the Fade myself, I bumped into him briefly and had to run from giant spiders. Demons, I think. Then a shining woman pulled me out, and here we are.” She made a gesture of finality with her hand. Then she sighed. “I know that’s probably not the answer you want. It’s the only one I can give, though. I won’t say I know what you’re going through, but I understand it must be hard...and it’s especially difficult, because you weren’t there to see what happened to confirm it, so of course you suspect I did something...

“But that’s all I have to say in my defense, because I honestly don’t know more. I didn’t think it would be fair to say otherwise; you deserve the truth.” She gave a faint smile. “I would want the same, if it were my own younger siblings...”

Evelyn blinked, obviously not expecting that. Still, she didn’t seem entirely convinced. “This is quite a new tactic...”

“Think of it what you want,” Ahnnie dismissed with a wave. “I’m done worrying my head off. Do you know how tense I’ve been these past few days? And then Josephine’s teaching me how to speak in metaphors and half-truths to establish goodwill with visiting dignitaries–” Those were words quoted directly from the ambassador herself. “Honestly? I suck at all that, and I feel much better now that I’ve told you the truth.” _I guess this is what they mean by ‘the truth will set you free’. It’s probably going to get me in a boatload of trouble, though._

Well, so be it. It had come to this, and it would stay that way.

Evelyn was quiet for a while. Her eyes, though still quite furious, lost their edge and focused elsewhere as she ran the girl’s words through her mind. Ahnnie fidgeted, unsure of what to do, before turning back to the kettle and going back to the water barrel to fill it as she had previously intended. Even if Evelyn wouldn’t have any tea, Ahnnie could use a nice, steaming cupful.

“He was the only one who cared to remember that I existed in the Ostwick Circle,” Evelyn suddenly said.

Ahnnie looked up, having just finished filling the kettle with water.

“Little baby brother, always asking for big sister Evie, whether I was at the Circle or visiting home...I guess it’s because I played with him, when Robert and Philip wouldn’t be bothered with a noisy little child...”

Ahnnie pursed her lips, wondering whether she should say something, and then went to hang the kettle on the hook over the fire.

“Do you know what he said to me, when he was five? ‘One day I’ll become a Templar, Evie, and join you at the Circle so you won’t have to be so alone.’ The little fool; he actually thought I was cooped up alone in a tower, just because family didn’t visit often...and when he turned eighteen, he actually did it. Like a true Templar, he kept to his word...”

Ahnnie only nodded, for what else could she say? She was surprised, however, when she heard a little sniffing. “Evelyn?” she asked softly.

The brunette wiped at her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she quickly dismissed. “I was getting sentimental. Damn, I didn’t imagine it going this way...you were supposed to be quailing in your boots...or socks,” she corrected when she noticed Ahnnie’s bootless feet. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle another onslaught of emotion, but failed when she squeaked, “Oh Maker, why wasn’t it me at the Conclave instead?” and covered her face.

Ahnnie’s heart clenched when she saw the mage’s shoulders shake in sorrow. She slowly came forward, wondering if Evelyn was still cross with her, before reaching slowly around the young woman, loosely embracing her. “It’s okay,” she murmured as she pat Evelyn’s back. “Everything will be all right.” She considered saying he might even be safe in her world right now, but doubted it was appropriate for someone who suspected her a moment ago. “So, did you get the idea for your code name from Sister Leliana’s?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Evelyn choked out a strangled laugh. “How did you know?”

“I just realized it...Leliana without the ‘ulluh’ sound.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Evelyn sniffed. “I thought it was pretty.”

“Indeed, it is,” Ahnnie agreed.

The Trevelyan pulled out of her hug a moment later, her sobs reduced to occasional sniffles. “Thank you...I suppose I needed to do that...I’d been keeping it all bottled up, ever since...” She shook her head. With a deep sigh, she recomposed herself and looked into Ahnnie’s eyes. “Maker’s breath. This was really unexpected...you are...truly, something else. I’ll tell my brother you’re not a demon, for starters.”

Ahnnie frowned confusedly.

“Ah, he asked me to get close to you to sense if you were a demon,” Evelyn explained. “This quest for truth was my own idea...he wouldn’t have approved, but I just couldn’t contain myself.”

“So you believe me?”

Evelyn studied her a moment, before answering, “You know, I don’t know what to think, exactly...but you were so blunt, and from what I’ve seen of you these past few days...” She gave the girl a weak smile. “I suppose I do?”

Ahnnie felt relief flood through her body.

“And to be fair, I won’t tell him that you saw Max in the Fade...he would not take the news very lightly. I think you were advised against admitting it, weren’t you?” When Ahnnie nodded, she went on, “I can’t have my family making a big fuss for the Inquisition, not when I intend to join it.”

Upon hearing that, Ahnnie’s jaw dropped wide open. “You what?” she blurted out.

Evelyn chuckled. “I know. Crazy. But I think...I think this is what I have to do, if I want to find out what happened to Max. I had a hunch he still lived, as his spirit couldn’t be sensed...then again, it’s not always one meets the spirits of the deceased in the Fade.” She smiled sheepishly at Ahnnie. “You know when I found you sitting outside your cabin yesterday? I felt the thrum of magic and followed it to you. So perhaps...you could help me?”

“I think you’ll have to talk to Solas about that,” Ahnnie suggested to her. “He’s the expert on the Fade.”

“Perfect! Well, I’ll have to go now...can’t keep my brother waiting. I won’t be able to join the Inquisition right away without causing a stir, but I’ll enlist when I can.”

“We’ll be glad to have you,” Ahnnie assured the mage, and she felt ecstatic that things seemed to work out even better than she expected... _but I don’t think Josephine’s going to be very happy when I tell her what I just did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Map calculations based on the handy-dandy interactive map of Thedas by bendingwind at 60km/day & based on the fact that Thedas should be slightly larger than the dev's statement (i.e, that Ferelden is roughly the size of England).
> 
> Special thanks to spiderbrojenkins of tumblr. I wouldn't have found the map had I not been browsing your blog :).


	9. Road Trip

"How long will you be gone for?" Netta asked, pouting.

Ahnnie smiled and pat the little girl on the head. "Probably for a few weeks," she answered truthfully. Feeling a soft, wet sensation on her other hand, she looked down to see Lady sniffing and licking her fingers. She couldn't help but smile as she gave the dog a hearty scratch behind the ears.

"That's a long time!" Netta whined.

"Come now, Netta, don't be like that," Flissa chided.

Feeling sorry for her, and partly responsible for her displeasure, Ahnnie knelt down so that she was level with the little girl's face and held her hand encouragingly. "Hey, before you know it, it'll go by in a flash. In the meantime, be good for your mama, okay?"

"You heard her," Flissa added. "Now step back and don't get in the way."

Netta obeyed with a sullen nod. "Yes, Mama," she said in a deflated tone.

Ahnnie straightened up and put her left foot in the stirrup; with a strong push, she swung her right leg over to the other side of the saddle. Her smoky grey mount snorted, pawing at the ground. With a tug of the reins, Ahnnie swung the horse around so that it was facing the others: Varric on his sorrel mountain pony, Solas on a graceful dun, and Cassandra on a stocky dark bay.

"Everyone is ready?" Cassandra inquired. Her tone made it sound like both a question and a statement; it was foolish to have mounted a steed and yet be unprepared for the journey ahead, but in case anyone forgot anything, now was the time to remember it. When she received nothing but nods in return, she swung her bay around to take the lead, and with a click of her tongue, the horse ambled into a steady walk.

The other animals followed suit, taking the initiative from the lead horse. The gates of Haven lay open before them, and Cassandra's horse began to take the first few steps beyond the threshold. Ahnnie turned around in her saddle to look back at the town; Netta waved to her, as well as Flissa, and she waved back. Her eyes moved even farther back to the Chantry, and though she couldn't see Evelyn, she could rest easy with the knowledge that the Ostwick mage's copy of _Hard in Hightown_ had been properly returned.

Ahnnie turned back to the road ahead, coming in third behind Solas as the gate posts went by her vision. Upon thinking of Evelyn, she immediately thought of Josephine and how flustered the poor woman had been when she heard of the confrontation in the cabin (right at the moment she was dealing with an unpleasant missive from the Marquis DuRellion, too)...but since it appeared Evelyn kept her promise, everything seemed to be all right. Lord Trevelyan would leave on the morrow, having finished his charitable duty (and the Marquis would be made to see reason in letting the Inquisition stay in Haven).

All that was left was to sit back and let the horse do the walking.

* * *

 

They settled that night in an old wooden shack built conveniently to the side of the road, one of the few rest houses for travelers going up and down the mountain. It had little besides a few tools, some firewood, and blankets, but it served its purpose as a shelter well enough.

Cassandra taught Ahnnie how to build a fire in front of the shack, as it had neither chimney nor fireplace, while Varric unpacked the rations and Solas spread out the bedrolls on the shack floor. As they used flints, it didn't take forever as Ahnnie had imagined, rubbing sticks together fruitlessly for hours, but Cassandra promised to teach her how to do that once they were off the frigid mountain and more tinder was available nearby.

 _How to make the fire, or how to waste time looking like an idiot?_ Ahnnie wondered.

The thought was put aside when they sat around the fire to have their supper. Varric thought up of the ingenious idea of skewering some bread and cheese and holding it over the fire to 'toast' it, which made the seemingly bland rations a little more enjoyable. Paired with some strips of tough dried meat, she was soon made full and hugged her knees as she warmed herself by the fire, closing her eyes as she basked in its heat.

"Excited?" Varric suddenly asked her.

Ahnnie opened her eyes. "Hmm?"

"For the trip," he clarified.

"Oh. Yeah," she nodded. "It's the first time I ever went somewhere purely on horseback."

He chuckled. "Then you're probably glad you took those riding lessons, eh? You'll be used to sitting on a horse's back for long periods of time by now."

Come to think of it, he was right. She didn't have much of a problem with riding anymore besides slightly sore thighs and a small ache in her bottom, all of which went away after a few hours of rest.

 _I'm lucky Cassandra made me take them,_ she thought. "It's also the first time I'm traveling for longer than a day," she added. "The longest I've ever gone for was twelve hours. Oh, and it's my first time camping out," she added yet again.

"There's always a first for everything."

"Quite so," Solas agreed from Varric's left. "Even for those who have been around a long time. One simply never stops learning." He looked up from digging through his pack and gave Ahnnie a smile. With a sudden toss, he threw something in the air, which the girl caught and found to be a small cloth-wrapped bundle of honeyed oat squares. "Give some to the horses. They deserve a little treat after carrying us all this way."

"You made these for them?" she asked.

"They were actually mine, but they went hard. Should be no problem for a horse's teeth, though."

Ahnnie smiled back. He had probably noticed throughout the trip how close she tried to be with her own mount, either by rubbing its neck or talking to it softly – even after all this time, she still seemed fascinated with the chance to work so closely with horses. "I'll get right to it," she assured him. She stood up, stretched, and made her careful way through the dusk.

The horses were stabled in a small lean-to structure next to the shack, open to approach without a door and yet closed in enough to protect from the wind. Ahnnie stepped up first to her gray and heard it nickering as she came close; "Here I am," she announced, as she was entering from behind and it was never a good idea to approach a horse's rear silently. "How're you doing?" As she continued in this conversational manner, she slowly eased up to the horse's side and pat it gently on the flank, moving up to the neck as she came closer to the head. It gave a huff of satisfaction as it crunched on the oat square at the center of her palm.

Varric's pony thrust its snout at her back, causing her to jolt. Ahnnie turned around and gave its snout a friendly rub; the pony dug its nose into her palm in response, looking for treats. When it found none, it snorted and turned away.

"Well," she remarked playfully, and shook out another oat square from the cloth into her hand. "How about now?"

The pony's snout was in her palm a moment later and the treat disappeared faster than it took to produce it. With a sarcastic roll of the eyes, she next went over to Cassandra's bay and Solas' dun. Hot air pulsed down her neck and face as both horses turned to look at her at the same time; she pat them each in turn, delighting in the almost woolly feel of their winter coats. For fun, she put two treats into both palms and watched as they crunched down on the oats in unison.

Seeing nothing left to do, and understanding that the horses would need their rest, she dusted her palms free of oat crumbs and exited the lean-to.

"Hey!" Varric gestured towards her as she came close; from his gleeful expression, he had probably been regaling whoever would listen of the latest humorous story he'd thought up of. "Did I ever tell you about that one time Hawke took my ghost stories a little too seriously? No? Well, you're missing out..."

Ahnnie settled down in anticipation of a good story, huddling by the fire until she was snug, and listened along with Solas to the dwarf's humorous account followed by the aforementioned spine-chilling ghost stories.

When it grew late, she was loathe to put out the fire and retire to what she believed would be a cold, rough bed. But with her traveling clothes, cloak, and the bedroll, she was made warm enough. And so, pillowing her head with her hands, and saying the customary 'Good night' to everyone, she spent her first night on the road.

* * *

 

They cleared the mountains by the end of the second day, emerging from the pass onto more level and noticeably warmer and greener land. It was still rather cold, making Ahnnie wonder if it was in the middle of autumn or an approaching winter, but the snow had gradually disappeared as they descended until it was no more.

It grew evident as soon as they left the mountains behind them that the path took the quartet around the fringes of a great lake; Lake Calenhad, as Cassandra explained to Ahnnie. It was so named after King Calenhad Theirin, or Calenhad the Great, the man who united the Alamarri tribes into one country...the first king of Ferelden.

Legend had it that King Calenhad spent a day and a year in the Tower of the Magi, a Circle tower built on the waters of the lake, from which he drew a cup of water every day and brought it to the top of the tower to the Formari, magic crafters who created and enchanted items. Using their skills, they meticulously forged each cup of water into a ring of mail armor until it was complete and presented on behalf of the Circle to King Calenhad. It was said that the armor, made from the lifeblood of the land, was such that no blade could strike it and no arrow could pierce through, so long as the king stayed on Fereldan soil.

Adding more to the lake's mystery was the origin of the Tower itself, or what little Cassandra knew of it – the Tevinters, believing the lake blessed by one of their Old Gods, built it in the middle of the water in hopes that it could somehow aid their magic research.

Her interest piqued, Ahnnie would sometimes gaze across the lake when the path took them close enough to its edge, believing that she saw a distant shape jutting out from the lake's surface. She saw in her mind's eye a legion of people dressed like the Romans (for she did not know what Tevinters wore, precisely) standing in admiration of their newly built tower, and a red-bearded Celtic king bending over the waters every morning to fill a chalice before making his careful way to the very top of the tower.

 _Did he fill it to the brim?_ she wondered. _Or did he leave enough room at the top? That would make more sense. And a Thedosian year consists of twelve thirty-day months, so that's three hundred and sixty days...a year and a day, three hundred and sixty one rings...that's not enough. He must've drawn water more than once a day to make that work. How many rings are in a suit of mail armor, anyway?_

And then they made camp. Cassandra picked out a clearing in the midst of some evergreen trees, a nice level spot close to water and shielded in a rough semicircle by bushy shrubs and brush. They tied their mounts to some nearby trees before getting to work clearing up the camp, setting out the bedrolls, and – most importantly – starting the fire.

There was tinder aplenty in the green forest around them. Cassandra had her collect dry grass, weeds, mosses, even feathers if she found them – anything dry and fibrous. While they were on the mountain, they had used pre-dried grasses as their tinder, and while there was still enough of it the Seeker was intent on teaching Ahnnie how to build the fire herself. When she gathered enough, Cassandra had her separate them into a large bundle that would be placed under the cone of firewood and a smaller bundle that would be transferred to the wood as soon as it caught flame.

Ahnnie shaped the small tinder bundle into a bird's nest, just as she'd done back on the mountain. This time, rather than striking flints until the tinder nest smoked, Cassandra made her lay it aside and pulled out a plank of wood called the fireboard and a straight stick of wood roughly eight inches in length and an inch and a half in diameter, known as the drill.

"When choosing wood for the fireboard, be sure it is light, dry, and non-resinous, yet soft enough to be dented. The board should be at least one inch thick, two to three inches wide, and a foot or so long."

Laying the board aside, Cassandra picked up the drill. It didn't look like a drill; at least, not yet. "The drill should be made of wood harder than the fireboard to handle the friction. Now, using a knife, you must carve one end to a tapered point and the other into a blunted point." Ahnnie watched closely as the Seeker used her small hunting knife to carve the ends as she instructed. When she finished, the stick looked like a large pencil, the blunted end being slightly rounded.

"Before you start rubbing the drill to the board, a small hole should be carved in about the size of the blunt end. Make it so that if you insert the drill, it will be difficult to turn; that is the source of the friction."

Cassandra carved the aforementioned hole near an end of the board, about an inch and a half away from the edge and about a quarter inch deep. Once she was done, she cut a V-shaped notch out from the edge, so that once the rubbing process started, the burning coal would catch itself in the notch and could be removed to transfer to the tinder nest.

Ahnnie sighed as she was handed the drill, believing this meant she had to start the arduous process of rubbing it on the prepared fireboard. Once Cassandra laid a flat piece of bark beneath the fireboard, she inserted the blunt end of the drill into the carved hole. Surprisingly enough, Cassandra took up a long, bent stick and began tying some string around its ends. The result would end up looking like a hunting bow, but she looped the cordage in a little noose around the drill before loosely tying it to the stick's other end.

"What is that?" Ahnnie asked, puzzled by the strange contraption.

"A firebow," Cassandra explained. "Rubbing the drill by hand is one way to go about it, but a firebow will make the process much faster and less painful." She gave the girl a wry look and Ahnnie knew then that the Seeker, though gloved, wasn't fond of the hand rubbing method either.

Taking up a stone this time, Cassandra carved the bottom into a socket for the tapered end of the drill and placed it squarely over the stick. She then made Ahnnie crouch in such a posture: one foot placed on the fireboard, holding it in place, and a hand clamped over the rock as if to hold the drill down, but gently enough so that the stick would have room to spin. The other hand held an end of the firebow, and when Cassandra gave the signal, Ahnnie pushed and pulled it quickly ( _like a violin bow,_ she thought) while simultaneously pressing down with the hand on the stone.

It was a rough and jerky process. Several times she pressed too hard on the rock and the drill wouldn't move, or she didn't press down hard enough and the bow would jostle it; however, about a few errors in, she was able to adjust her movements so that the drill twisted as fervently as she wished it to. Cassandra made her pull faster, and her arm began to scream with the exertion. Then, just as she was about to drop, she was rewarded with a rising plume of smoke.

Per Cassandra's instructions, she gently removed the drill and fireboard and blew on the small coal deposited on the bark. Encouraged by the still-smoking ember, she lifted the bark and dropped the coal into the tinder nest she had laid aside. She squeezed the tinder around the coal and blew at the same time, keeping up the smoke, and gave an exclamation of joy when the first tiny flame erupted amidst the tinder – an exclamation that soon turned to one of urgency when the growing flames threatened to lick her fingers.

With a little toss, she watched the bundle fall in with the other tinder beneath the firewood, and continued to blow on it from a safer distance. The flames grew, and grew, and grew, until they cheerfully consumed the cone of wood that housed the tinder. Ahnnie sat back to admire her handiwork blazing away within a circle of stones – a feat that would have been impossible had it not been for Cassandra.

The Seeker deflected each and every bit of praise and thanks. "It is only common knowledge, necessary for journeys like these." Leaning back against a log, Cassandra pulled off her leather gloves and held her hands before the fire. "Remember what I have taught you," she then said. "Make camp before it turns dark and be sure to have enough firewood nearby." She nodded towards a pile of wood stacked to the side, courtesy of Varric. "Else you'll be left to spend a cold night, vulnerable to predators. This is especially important where there are no rest houses on the trail, like the ones back on the mountains."

Ahnnie nodded in comprehension.

"Water should not be a problem if you have a full skin and expect to continue traveling," Cassandra went on, "but it is the best practice to find a source close at hand. It becomes especially necessary if you intend to make camp for longer than two nights."

Just then, Varric jumped into view with Bianca in one hand and two dead rabbits in the other. "Good, you've got the fire going. I shot us some dinner." He held up his catch by the ears, a proud grin on his face, and Cassandra turn to Ahnnie.

"Now, I will show you how to skin and dress a rabbit," she said, and Ahnnie gave an inner groan of disgust.

* * *

 

Rabbit and herb soup was on the menu that night.

Not only was Ahnnie taught how to prepare the meat, but also how to set up a cooking tripod for the pot. Water was fetched from the lake to boil the rabbits into broth and Solas added freshly washed herbs a little later after having gone to pick them. When it was ready, Ahnnie was surprised at how much she missed having a hot meal, even though it had only been two days. It was her first time eating rabbit, too – she found it similar in texture and taste to chicken, but gamier and leaner. The herbs lent the soup a tangy, sweet taste, and it was worth the scarring experience of gutting an animal in the end.

That night was also the first night she spent out in the open.

It was a totally different experience from sleeping on the hard planks of a rest house. With the fire at the center of the camp, there was little reason to feel any cold, and whenever she looked up, stars twinkled against the night sky like little jewels studded into black fabric. Ahnnie lay still for a while in her bedroll, mesmerized by the sight of so many stars. Surrounded by the leafy smell of the woods, the crackling fire to her right, the boundless sky above, and her companions settled around her, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction that sleeping in a bed couldn't compare with. _I should do this more often,_ she thought. Luckily, there were plenty of chances to do so on this trip.

Ahnnie caught sight of Cassandra walking around from the corner of her eye and lifted herself up by the elbow. "Cassandra? You're not sleeping?"

The Seeker settled down on a log with a shake of her head. "I am keeping watch," she explained. "I will sleep once Varric relieves me."

Ahnnie refrained from asking why. If Cassandra saw fit to keep up a night watch, then there would be a night watch. She worried for a moment that perhaps the area they were traveling in was hostile, but then thought of how a night watch was smart regardless of how politically safe an area was; out in the open like this, dangers both human and animal lurked just beyond the firelight.

"Well, let me know when it's my turn," she said as she lowered herself back into the bedroll.

"That will not be necessary," Cassandra assured her. "Solas, Varric, and I will suffice."

Somehow, that stung. "Are you sure?" Ahnnie asked.

"I am sure."

"Okay..." She turned to her side, resting her head on her folded hands, and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

 

And so they continued traveling. As the days went on, the routine became fairly simple; wake up, break camp, ride on horseback, take a midday break, continue until near twilight, make camp, sleep, and rinse and repeat. The more they went on, the more their surroundings began to change. The lake narrowed beside them into a river that they would have to cross easterly to reach Mother Giselle; at the same time land became more uneven, walling them in with steep foothills at intervals, so that the river occasionally disappeared from view. When that happened, the others relied on the placement of the sun to gain their bearings, and Ahnnie learned a thing or two about compass and solar direction though she was confused more often than not.

Six days after their departure from Haven, Cassandra finally announced that they were within a day's travel of their destination. They would reach it in a half day at the earliest, by the day's end at the latest. But it was also on this day that gray clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun in an ominous haze.

"I know the way," Cassandra assured Ahnnie when she asked about it, "and we should arrive before any rain falls. If not, there is a place I know where we can stay."

Varric sniffed. "Let's hope it doesn't start before then. There's nothing more uncomfortable than riding on horseback and being wet and cold at the same time."

Something told Ahnnie that she'd experience the feeling sooner or later, and she sighed as her grey trudged after the others.

The path lay before them in a stretch of rocky, forested ground. They were once again separated from the river, and with the sky overcast, Ahnnie couldn't make heads or tails of their current direction. _Solas said it was a southerly one, though_. Whatever the case, she hoped they reached Mother Giselle or the place Cassandra mentioned soon; the trip had quickly lost its charm after the fourth day or so, and the monotony of travel grew boring. Plus, she didn't relish the thought of being soaked by a downpour.

Time seemed to pass at a syrup-slow speed. The landscape drifted by ever much the same; trees, rock, plants, dirt, everywhere with no difference in sight. No one spoke a word and only the clip-clopping of the horses hooves broke the silence.

"It's kinda quiet, don't you think?" Varric then asked, and Solas frowned.

"Indeed," the elf agreed. "A little _too_ quiet..."

"What-" Ahnnie was about to ask, when she was interrupted by a shrill scream. It came from a distance and echoed over the land, reverberating eerily through the air.

"Up ahead," Cassandra estimated, and urged her horse into a quick trot. The others followed suit.

The scream pierced the air again and again, growing louder as they advanced. At one point it was interspersed with a shrill, high-pitched, unhuman shriek, which Solas quickly identified as that of a horse's. The reason for the screams was revealed when Ahnnie's left hand vibrated with a familiar sensation. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she called out to the others, "M-my hand! I think we're headed for a rift!"

Before they could go any further Cassandra checked her horse and swiftly dismounted to tie it to a nearby tree. Solas and Varric did the same, followed by a tentative Ahnnie. "Why?" the girl asked, too speechless to elaborate.

"The horses will spook if we get too close to the rift," the Seeker explained, understanding her question all the same. "They were not trained to handle combat, but don't worry about them; just follow my lead."

"Okay..."

When Ahnnie saw the others draw their weapons, she steeled her resolve as best as she could and drew out her glaive, holding it defensively before her as taught by Corporal Hargrave. Using the screams as a marker, the quartet maneuvered quickly yet cautiously towards the spot. Between intervals, they relied on Ahnnie's hand, which only seemed to vibrate more as they approached. Eventually they spied the glowing green riftlight through the trees and stumbled upon an urgent and gory scene.

A dark-skinned girl, no older than eighteen or twenty, was frantically fending off the advance of a shade with only a dagger from her prone position on the ground. A terror demon, on the other side of the clearing, was quickly making mincemeat of a fallen palomino horse with its claws. Frothy blood rushed through the horse's nostrils and mouth as it kicked frantically with all fours in a futile attempt to distance itself from the demon; but it was too late, for the abdomen was thoroughly decimated, diminishing any chance of survival even if it pulled through. In the farthest northeast corner lay the carcass of a giant brown creature resembling a buffalo, cut open like an envelope.

" _Storm! Storm!_ " the girl cried when her eyes spied the horse.

It cost only a second to take in the scene, but to Ahnnie it felt like an eternity gazing upon the gore. Her heart was chilled in particular by the horse, still fighting and shrieking despite its horrifying wounds.

She was only vaguely aware of the others rushing in and broke from her reverie just as they joined the fray. With widened eyes, she looked left and right before dashing up to the menacing rift. Meanwhile, Cassandra was coming to the aid of the girl and Solas and Varric took on the terror demon, whose legs were quickly frozen by Solas' magic.

Ahnnie rose her marked hand toward the rift, spewing an eerie green beam that bridged the space between them. She squinted as she focused with all her might, hoping the rift would be closed indefinitely with this attempt, but when she widened her eyes again the ungodly mass spewed forth another terror demon and two wraiths.

Ahnnie jumped back just as the terror demon made to spring on her. She blocked its claw with a swipe of her glaive and forced a stab with the bladed end. Still, she would have been knocked right off her feet had Solas not frozen the demon's arm and leg in time.

"I'll take care of this one," he assured her. "Go-"

"Close the rift, I know," she finished for him, and headed for it again. Chancing a quick look back at the others, she could only see that the girl was safely shielded behind Cassandra before she thrust her marked hand upwards again. A momentary lapse of strength hit her when a wraith fired its magic, but her mark continued to fire the beam, so she ignored the wraith and pressed on.

 _Oh my god, how long is this going to take!?_ she found herself thinking after the wraith had fired one too many balls and the rift still had not closed. A wave of dizziness passed through her head and she felt on the verge of collapse. _Maybe I should have taken care of that wraith first? Ugh, I am so stupid!_ She tried using her free hand to wave her glaive-guisarme at the wraith, but the damn thing was too far away. As a result of overreaching, she stumbled to her right, and the connection to the rift was broken off.

 _No, I was almost done,_ she protested, and moved left again. The connection held and she kept it, though her vision was starting to blacken at the edges.

Almost suddenly, she fell onto her back as the rift finally closed. The momentum sent her skidding a foot or two on the ground, planting her right at Varric's feet. He steadied himself before he could get knocked over and lifted her up by the arm.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asked her amiably, as if they had been in a spirited ball game rather than a fight against demons.

Her breath came out in choppy, ragged gasps and her head felt like it weighed a ton. "Yeah," she drawled out drunkenly, "I'm fine..."

"Storm!"

Ahnnie swiveled her head to the left, still unsteady but slowly regaining consciousness. She caught sight of the girl dashing away from Cassandra's side and up to the fallen horse, crumpling to her knees as she reached its head. "Oh, no, Stormy," the girl gasped, her breath caught in an oncoming sob.

The animal's eyes fluttered open at her touch, and every breath it took pulsed more blood through its nose. As the girl cradled its head in her lap, the horse let out a soft nicker that was gurgled by the blood in its throat. The girl began to cry and hugged the horse's head, stroking its graceful neck gently.

Cassandra approached them and laid a solemn hand on the girl's shoulder. "It is beyond rescue," she said, her voice stoic.

The girl sniffed, gasped, and straightened up from her hug. The horse's breath puffed out more feebly now, though its eyes still tracked the girl as she sat up. "I know," the girl said at last. "Please...don't let her suffer any longer..."

The Seeker nodded and took her sword up again. Varric pulled the girl away and she hid her face in his shoulder as Cassandra thrust her blade downwards in a blunt, cracking _thunk_ through the palomino's skull. The horse's body stiffened slightly before growing slack, and then still.

Varric spoke soothing words to the girl as the Seeker withdrew her sword. She began sobbing inconsolably and the group settled around her, not wishing to leave her alone. When her sobs subsided Cassandra attempted to speak to her, asking who she was and where she had come from. As she slowly ground out her answers, Ahnnie sank down on the grass beside them, unable to take her eyes off the dead horse.

* * *

 

"Papa!"

The old man looked up from his work in the stables and let out a gasp of shock when he saw the sorry state of his daughter. "Seanna!" he exclaimed.

Seanna rushed up to him and buried herself in his open arms. "By the Maker!" he exclaimed once again when he held her out at arm's length. "What happened to you, child? You look as though you took a fall in the woods!"

Seanna bit down on her lower lip and let forth a fresh burst of sobbing again. "I was taking Storm out to look for Druffy, and while I was leading Druffy back, there was this green magic in the air and then demons - _demons_ -"

She seemed unable to go any further and her father took her up in his arms again. "There, there," he coaxed, cradling the back of her head in one hand and grasping her shoulder in the other. "You're safe now. It will be all right."

"Storm didn't make it," Seanna added in a choked whimper. "And Druffy..."

"It's all right," her father reassured her, though a troubled look was etched across his face.

It was only after a while that the man noticed the strangers standing across from him. With a scrutinizing squint he regarded the forms of Cassandra and Ahnnie. Behind them at a distance were Solas and Varric, riding on a horse and a pony and leading two other horses by ropes.

"Master Dennet! Something wrong?" A young man emerged from deeper within the stables to stand by the old man's side. He first noticed Seanna, weeping softly in her father's arms, and then the strangers. "We have guests?" he then asked.

Master Dennet waved him off with a dismissive hand. "I'll tend to the matter, Bron. You go bring Seanna inside, and when you can, go tell the Bensons about their druffalo. Send them my condolences."

"Yes, sir."

As gently as he could, Master Dennet withdrew from the hug, squeezing his daughter comfortingly on the shoulder before she turned away with Bron and headed out of the stables. The pair walked along a dirt path up to a modestly sized cabin, disappearing from view upon rounding the corner.

"Well," Dennet said once they were gone. He was addressing Cassandra, who looked more authoritative, "I suppose I must thank you for bringing my daughter back safe and sound. I assume you rescued her from the demons."

The Seeker gave him a nod. "And you are Horsemaster Dennet, formerly of Redcliffe?"

"The very same. And you, lady Seeker?" For he had noticed the rather obvious Seeker emblem on the front of her armor.

"Cassandra," Cassandra supplied. With a vague gesture towards Ahnnie and the others, she added, "We are of the Inquisition. And since we have crossed paths, there is an important matter we would like to discuss with you."

A look of recognition passed through Dennet's eyes. "The Inquisition, eh?" He rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. As Solas and Varric finally neared the stables and dismounted, his interest seemed piqued at the sight of the mage elf and rogue dwarf. "Feel free to stable your horses here," Dennet said at last, "and when you're done, head up to that cabin." A browned, calloused finger pointed towards the house Seanna and Bron had left for. "We'll be able to discuss things better there."

Ahnnie waited until the rugged old man left the stables before looking curiously at Cassandra. "You know him?"

"He is well-known in these parts," Cassandra affirmed. She began to walk towards where their mounts stood waiting, and Ahnnie followed. "His mounts are said to be the finest in Ferelden. He used to be the horsemaster of Redcliffe, but retired after the Fifth Blight. Where he retired was not exactly known, but Leliana had a hunch he was somewhere in the northwest corner of the Hinterlands. If we can convince him, we can obtain better horses for the Inquisition."

"Was Leliana right?"

Cassandra smiled wryly at the girl. "Indeed. We are in the northwest of the Hinterlands."

"Oh," Ahnnie nodded.

With a chuckle, Solas couldn't help but add, "A little more practice and you'll get your bearings straight."

Ahnnie noticed the mischievous glints in the corners of Solas' and Varric's eyes, and she gave them a mock pout. "Stop making fun of me," she whined playfully, before helping the others stable the horses.

* * *

 

Once they were done, they entered the cabin as promised. It was a nice, spacious abode with a stately red carpet spread over the stone floor and what looked like hay or rushes strewn about here and there. Elaina, Dennet's wife, ushered them to a round wooden table where Dennet was waiting.

Elaina bade them to have a seat and disappeared round the corner to fetch some tea. Once seated, Cassandra pulled off her gloves and Varric made himself comfortable by leaning back in his chair. Ahnnie did her best to maintain her posture, though she was starting to grow a little sleepy. _A side effect of the wraith magic,_ she presumed. Beside her, Solas was taking everything in with observant eyes. When Elaina returned, everyone gratefully nursed their own steaming mugs of hot tea.

"I can't thank you all enough for saving our daughter," Elaina said as she slid into the chair next to her husband's. "Had you not been in the area, we would have lost her."

"We only did what was right," Cassandra deflected. "Besides, there was a rift in the area. We had no choice but to take care of it."

Elaina's face became grim. "Those rifts...they've been opening up all over the Hinterlands and aggravating the wolves...as if bandits weren't enough of a danger already." She shook her whitened head. "I've told Seanna over and over again that she can't go off on one of her escapades, not in times like these. But she has a strong sense of justice, that girl. When the Bensons lost their prized druffalo, she got it in her head that it was her duty to bring it back." She took a careful sip at her tea and then added from the corner of her mouth, "Just like her father, that one."

Dennet gave his wife an amused look, but only held it briefly before turning back to their guests. "So, you're the Inquisition," he began. "Hear you're trying to bring order back. It's high time someone did." His eyes wandered over to Ahnnie. "Never thought it would be a child, though."

"Not much older than Seanna," Elaina remarked with a pitying glance.

It took Ahnnie a while to realize they were talking about her. She fidgeted in her seat as a prickle of discomfort made her face warm. _They identified me so easily._ _Rumor sure spreads fast..._

"This matter you want to discuss - you're looking for mounts, are you not?" Dennet turned his gaze to Cassandra, much to Ahnnie's relief.

"We are," the Seeker affirmed. "It is no secret that you served Arl Eamon well in your time at Redcliffe, and that you are an expert on the animals. Your horses will greatly aid us, as we are currently relying on Haven's livery stables and the mounts between our forces are stretched thin."

"Simple messenger horses aren't going to serve your purpose," Dennet nodded. "I can see why you need me, but I can't help you at the moment." He took a deep sigh, and explained, "I hope you understand. I can't just send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you'd send a letter. Every bandit between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap."

Elaina frowned at his crude language. "Dennet," she chided.

But Cassandra held up a hand. "It's fine. I would prefer that he spoke plainly."

"In short, you'll have mounts once I know they won't end up a cold winter's breakfast," Dennet finished, and he took a big gulp of tea to commemorate it.

"Of course," the Seeker nodded. "That is only reasonable."

There followed a short pause in which it seemed Cassandra was mulling over the old man's words. Ahnnie looked from Elaina to Dennet to Cassandra, wondering what this rejection would mean for the Inquisition. Last she checked, it wasn't an organization with deluxe caravan services to guarantee safe passage to a group of four people, much less a hundred horses. With their current resources, it looked to be a logistics nightmare.

 _But he cares about his horses,_ she thought, _and that's a good thing._

"We cannot stay any longer if we want to reach our destination in time," Cassandra said at last. "The Herald of Andraste has much to do." Ahnnie immediately shot a look of discomfort at Cassandra, but was ignored. "We will, however, send someone from our camp once we arrive to work out the details with you. In the meantime, we will do our best to secure the area and surrounding roads. I hope that we can arrive at a suitable arrangement within a month's time."

"Same," Dennet agreed.

Matters seemed to end there and they finished up their tea, but when Dennet opened the door for them the sky was revealed to have let loose the rain it threatened not over an hour ago. With a plaintive sigh Dennet remarked, "A pity. The roads'll be muck tomorrow." Turning to the group, he offered, "You can stay to wait out the rain, but it'll be near dark by the time it finishes. On the other hand, Elaina and I wouldn't object to feeding and housing you for a night. Take your pick."

"I'll take the feeding and housing, thanks," Varric decided with a grin, and they moved back into the house to get settled.


	10. The Crossroads

The group awoke at the crack of dawn. Ahnnie felt creaky after a night's rest on the stone floor of the cabin's main room, yet she had no choice but to force her eyes open and make her bumbling way behind Solas and Varric to the stables. Elaina was gracious enough to offer a basin of water for their refreshment and some cloth-wrapped bread for their breakfast on the road, but Ahnnie still felt sleepy nonetheless and took a bite of her bread when no one else was looking.

Dennet was right; the ground had turned to muck. The moment anyone took a step forward onto the path, their boots squelched as they pressed down into the soft, viscous mud. It never sucked on their feet, but it definitely made a mess with every rising step, splattering droplets of mud on anything within a three foot radius. By the time they reached the stables, their boots and parts of their trousers were flecked with sludge.

 _Eugh,_ Ahnnie groaned, and put a hand up to her nose. _The rain's made the stable smell even worse._

And now that she thought of it, the consistency and color of the mud made it difficult to discern between horse droppings. She closed her eyes and prayed her boots hadn't made an errant step into a camouflaged pile of the stuff.

To the quartet's surprise, it was not their original mounts that were saddled and ready for them; rather, three stocky horses and an equally stocky pony were hitched to the posts by the stable entrance. All the animals were well-built and handsome, and there was a marked difference between them and the horses they originally rode on. Even to a novice like Ahnnie, they had the air of good breeding about them.

Dennet pat the flank of the nearest horse with a proud smile. To the other side of him stood Seanna, her expression indiscernible in the early morning light. "You deserve better than whatever knock-kneed plow nags they gave you," the horsemaster said. "These three here are purebred Fereldan Forders, and the pony's a Fereldan Highlander. You won't find anything better in the Hinterlands, not even if you searched it twice over."

He parted from the steed to let Cassandra inspect it. What she found was obviously satisfactory, for she gave him a nod and untied the reins from the post. "It is very kind of you," she thanked him.

"Ah, 'twas nothing. Couldn't let you ride on into these parts without dependable mounts." His eyes hardened as he shook his head. "The Mage-Templar conflict's still going strong, not to mention the bandits and wolves. You'll need all the help you can get. I'll take care of your other mounts in the meantime. Whenever your people get here, I'll give them back. You have my word for it."

Solas quickly claimed the second Forder, and Varric was getting himself acquainted with the pony. Ahnnie looked up at the remaining Forder, a tall proud chestnut, but felt a pang of guilt as she looked into the stables. She thought she could just make out the smoky grey rump of her previous mount a few stalls down.

"Would you like to say goodbye to him?" a girlish voice asked, and Ahnnie turned around to face Seanna.

She looked back at the group and saw Cassandra still conversing with Dennet. "Yes, please," she answered Seanna, smiling.

The girls made their way into the pungent stables and headed for the grey's stall. Its rump was turned to them and its head was bowed, preoccupied with a crop of hay. To catch the horse's attention, Seanna made soft clicking noises with her tongue. The horse turned around in response and held its head out over the stall door, mouth chewing amiably on a bundle of hay.

Ahnnie reached out a hand to touch the velvety nose. Puffs of warm air pulsed into her palm in steady intervals. With a sigh, she gently caressed the length of the grey's cheek, feeling more than a little somber. Even though it had only been a week, she felt bonded with the animal already. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy," she murmured. _You're not a knock-kneed plow nag to me,_ she added in her mind.

"It's hard not to get attached," Seanna remarked.

"I know, right?" Ahnnie agreed, and looked over to Seanna. The girl was gazing at the horse with a nostalgic smile, and Ahnnie could tell that the pain was still fresh in her memory. "I'm sorry about what happened to Storm...I wish we'd come a little sooner. Maybe things would have turned out differently, then."

Seanna's eyes connected with hers and she gave Ahnnie a sad smile. "That's not your fault. I wish things were different too, but like Papa always says, we shouldn't dwell too much on what we could not change."

"I suppose that's true," Ahnnie nodded.

They stood in silence for a while, staring in unison at the grey horse. The animal continued to chew hay whilst staring back at them, as if it understood what they were thinking. "Thank you for saving me, by the way," Seanna added a moment later.

"Oh..." Ahnnie shook her head. "I didn't do anything. Cassandra was the one-"

"Yes, but without you the rift would not have closed, wouldn't it?"

Ahnnie blinked. "I guess not," she said at last. As if on cue, she took a peek at her left hand, dimly glowing green in the gloom of the stables. _I'm still not used to it, aren't I? Sometimes I look and expect to see nothing there, just like it used to be before all this..._

"Ahnnie!" Solas' voice called from outside, breaking her thoughts. "Are you ready? It is time to leave."

She looked up in alarm before giving Seanna an apologetic smile. "I guess I have to go now. Bye," she said to the grey, patting its muzzle one last time. "And goodbye to you too," she said to Seanna. "Take care of yourself. I hope you feel better soon." She reached out a hand, hesitated awkwardly, then pushed it forward to clasp the other girl's wrist in a friendly squeeze.

"I will, thank you," Seanna nodded. "Farewell."

* * *

 

They reached the camp at noon. Ahnnie was at first surprised to see that it was a military camp, bustling with activity from what little people were there to manage it. _Is Mother Giselle here?_ she wondered, scanning the collection of tents and armored people for a nun in Chantry robes, but found none.

"The Herald of Andraste!"

Ahnnie had just dismounted and still had her hands on the saddle when she looked around to see who had addressed her.

"Down here."

She obeyed and found herself looking down upon the pretty face of a copper haired female dwarf, dressed in thick clothing covered by light pieces of armor. Ahnnie's cheeks warmed as she stammered an apology.

"It's no problem. I'm aware of my own height." She said this so matter-of-factly that Ahnnie's guilt alleviated somewhat. "I've heard the stories," the dwarf went on. "Everyone has...we know what you did at the Breach. It's odd for someone so young to have such power, but you'll get no back talk here; that's a promise."

"Oh, um...thank you..." The compliments only served to make her cheeks redder. To change the subject, she introduced herself: "I'm Ahnnie, and you?"

"Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service." The dwarf's voice rang out clear and proud. It was evident that she took her position seriously.

From behind Ahnnie, Varric's smoky voice addressed Scout Harding with a question. "Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?" There was a hint of mischievousness, maybe even flirtatiousness, in his tone.

Harding turned to him. "I can't say I have...why?"

"You've been Harding in..." He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

Scout Harding tilted her head in confusion, unable to get at his meaning.

"Oh, never mind," Varric sighed in defeat. It was then Ahnnie pieced two-and-two together and pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

Cassandra was not amused; she rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust before turning away to head into camp. Solas merely chuckled and led the horses away, Varric following suit.

Finding herself alone with the scout, Ahnnie decided to act the part delegated to her. "So," she began in as official a tone as she could, "what's the situation out here?"

Harding was all business again. "We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster, but with the Mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive."

"We met with him, actually," Ahnnie recalled. "Just yesterday. He's fine. Um..." She looked towards the camp to find Cassandra, but the Seeker was busy talking to some soldiers. "Lady Cassandra said she'd send someone out to negotiate with him once we got here...I think that's what she's doing right now."

"That's good news," Harding said in relief.

"What about Mother Giselle?" Ahnnie asked next. "Is she here?"

Harding shook her head. "Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there, too."

"Oh...Where's the Crossroads, if I may ask?"

"No problem; it's a little ways over there." She pointed in a westerly direction. "Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long. You'd best get going; no time to lose." Scout Harding gave her a short military nod before going her own way.

 _Aw, I thought we could have a break. I'm kind of hungry..._ Ahnnie looked around the camp again and sighed. _Oh well. Better go tell the others. They'll want to know.  
_

* * *

 

"Whoa, watch your step!"

Ahnnie fell against Varric's outstretched arm, steadied herself, and turned around to give him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

They were negotiating the path down the steep slope below camp. The camp itself was perched strategically atop a hill, crowned by leafy trees for cover, and there was a clearer path to it that rounded the hill, but this smaller one was faster and otherwise passable except for a small cinch that made it difficult to traverse by horse. Besides which, they needed the advantage of stealth, so they went on foot, Cassandra leading the way followed by Solas, Ahnnie, and finally Varric at the rear.

Once they reached the main path, they set on their way. It wasn't much different from the slope; rutted from wagon tracks and rocky and broken in parts, and not to mention, muddy; but it was wider and less slippery. It took them between two giant boulders, graced on both sides at the entrance with braziers that were currently unlit.

"Mother Giselle cannot be far," Cassandra remarked as she surveyed their surroundings.

And then as they turned the bend, they were greeted by three arrow-studded corpses bleeding at the foot of a crumbling stone wall.

Ahnnie gulped. "That can't be good..."

Solas pat her shoulder reassuringly. "Keep your weapon handy," he advised her, "and stay close to us."

She did as she was told and stalked carefully after the others, Solas in particular.

Several more corpses lay sprawled along the sides of the path, making Ahnnie gag, for they were starting to decompose. She sucked in a breath and stopped breathing through her nose, but the essence of the smell came through anyway. _At least_ _I'm not hungry anymore,_ she remarked, trying to think positively.

They met with a lone archer in the arm of the second bend in the path. He stood a few feet away from the exit of the boulder pass, holding his position defensively. As they passed, he gave them all a curt nod and a brief, "Careful out there. It's nothing but madness."

Ahnnie frowned. _Is it really that bad?_

Cassandra continued to lead them forward, undaunted by this warning. They could hear distant sounds of fighting but saw nothing out of place, up until they came upon three armored men frozen in a great stalagmite of ice, each man entrapped in his own icy mound.

"The work of mages, no doubt," Solas remarked.

And then the sight of fighting was directly ahead of them. With a simple turn to the right, they could each see the conflict playing out for themselves not more than a hundred feet away, people hacking at each other with swords and fire crackling haphazardly about the ground alongside jutting crystalline structures of ice. It was difficult to discern who was fighting who, but it soon became clear that the people in big spiky armor were pitched against the lighter armored ones.

"Inquisition forces," Cassandra said after a quick evaluation. "They're trying to protect the refugees."

"Looks like they could use a hand," Varric added, itching to put Bianca to use. Solas brought out his staff and started chanting a spell.

Ahnnie held her glaive-guisarme point forward and made to follow them, but Cassandra pushed her back. "It is far too dangerous for you. Stay here behind these crates and wait for us to return."

Ahnnie looked at the two crates Cassandra indicated. Their size was such that one was sufficient to hide her if she crouched, making them an effective wall of cover. "But-"

"Do as I say." Her tone was not to be trifled with and made Ahnnie shrink a little. Without waiting to see if the girl would obey her, the Seeker turned away and strode headlong into the fighting. "Hold; we are not apostates," Ahnnie could hear her state, but when no one paid her any heed, the ring of metal as she drew out her sword preceded the staccato raps of her blade against another blade.

At a loss for what to do, Ahnnie stared helplessly at the fighting before sinking down behind a crate. _I think those men are Templars,_ she thought of the combatants opposite the Inquisition forces. _Cassandra's right; it's too dangerous for me. I've never fought against a person before. Just dummies and demons...I'd get killed if I take a step out there._ Still, these reassurances did little to assuage the sting of Cassandra's rebuttal. It made her feel incompetent all over again, like a little child who couldn't do anything right.

Her face twisted in disgust as she thought of how it also sounded like special treatment.

 _Oh, shut up,_ she sighed. _You said so yourself that you'd get killed the moment you stepped out. There's nothing 'special' about having your lack of skills accurately evaluated._

And so she contented herself with this fact - albeit alongside a smidgen of guilt - and lowered her weapon so that it wouldn't stick visibly above the crates. She shifted her bottom into a comfy position to lie in wait for the end of the battle. But after a while, curiosity got the better of her and she chanced a tiny peek upwards.

All was still chaos and confusion. Men still fought, fires still raged, ice crystals still froze (and in fact, new ones pierced the landscape, probably thanks to Solas). Ahnnie narrowed her eyes in an attempt to make out the forms of her companions, but did not succeed. _Maybe they're too far in,_ she thought. _I hope they're okay..._ The thought of losing one of them never occurred to her until now. _They'd better come back in one_ _piece,_ she thought, suddenly alarmed. _What am I supposed to do without them?_

As if on cue, a Templar fell to his death and Varric was suddenly made visible in the midst of the fray. He was too far for her to see his face, but Ahnnie could tell it was him from the shape of his figure. He was firing away with Bianca, moving agilely between men and debris.

 _And not a single scratch,_ Ahnnie marveled. _He's really good._

Just then, an archer in dark uniform blocked her vision. The girl gave a start and ducked her head, for he was within several feet of her. Her heart hammered in her chest at the possibility of having been spotted, but when nothing happened, she took another peek and saw that his back was to her. She could then confirm he was not of the Inquisition; their archers wore brown with green hooded mantles. This one wore no hood and donned a dark grey leather tunic fastened by a red belt.

If she was still confused about his allegiance, he was now shooting at Inquisition soldiers with as much skill and accuracy as could be afforded in such a chaotic situation. It made her blood boil to see one go down, pierced by one of the archer's arrows. But she reminded herself, yet again, that she could do nothing.

The archer drew out another arrow from his quiver and took aim at a new target. Ahnnie was about to sink her head down again, thinking she could do herself no good by watching a battle she could not help out with, when the archer changed direction and aimed his arrow at Varric.

Her heart leapt into her mouth. _No!_ If that arrow found its mark, at best Varric would be injured. But at worse...Her hands gripped the shaft of her glaive until her knuckles grew white. _I have to do something, and fast. Can I do it? But - no, I must!_

Losing no time, she rose from her hiding place and flipped the glaive-guisarme over to its bladed end. The archer was still tracking Varric's movements, but she did not doubt that he would soon fire. Without so much as a breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes and thrust the dagger-like end forward. Leather gave way beneath the blade, quickly followed by soft flesh and some bone.

"Aaaarrrgaaah!" came the garbled scream, and the archer dropped his bow. Ahnnie yanked her weapon from his back and jumped over the crate to make another attack, this time with her glaive's main blade. In a fierce downward swipe, she sliced a diagonal line from his shoulder to his hip, causing him to double over in pain.

But he did not fall; he froze for a moment before making a slow, staggering turn to face his attacker, a shaky hand grasping a hilt at his side. Ahnnie tightened the grip on her weapon as she watched him draw out a sword. She felt as though in a dream, facing a murderous apparition of her own conjuring. But this was no dream. This was real; and he was dead set on killing her.

With a roar, the man lunged for her, his blade poised to strike. She blocked with a swipe of her glaive but then he pulled a feint, cutting close to her leg. Sweat beaded on her forehead as he pressed on with an alarming speed despite his injuries. There was neither the time nor opening for her to go on the offensive; the archer, skilled as he was, kept forcing her back and putting her on the defensive.

Ahnnie soon found herself backed against a burning fence post. With no other choice, she attempted to push back by using the bladed end again, aiming for his stomach. It only grazed his tunic before the man thrust his blade too close to her fingers, triggering her to yank back her hands in defense. As a result of her surprise, the glaive fell to the ground. Before she could make a grab for it, the archer closed in and grabbed her by the collar with his free hand.

She croaked out choking gasps as he constricted the collar around her throat and pushed her downwards, forcing her onto her knees. Her fingers scratched fruitlessly against his gloved hand, while the other one held the blade right at her eyes.

The archer gave a low chuckle. "Stupid little bitch," he cursed, and spat in her face. She closed her eyes, grimacing at the spittle on her skin in addition to the increasing lack of air. "I'll carve up your face so not even the Maker can recognize you."

Well, this was it. This was the end. One thrust between the eyes, and she'd never wake again. She was still fighting, though, clinging desperately onto life with each attempt at breathing and furious punch after punch against the hand that choked her. It would have been easier to give up but every instinct within her screamed to resist the end. She realized she now knew what Storm was feeling in those last moments of terror, that natural urge to keep preserving oneself in the face of all odds.

And then something bubbled within her. Something deep and tingling and urgent. For all she knew, it was probably a side effect of the choking, but it flared in her belly like a white-hot fire. When she opened her eyes, the world was blurred through the spittle and spinning crazily before her. Her killer was leaning in to say something smug, but she couldn't hear it through the blood rushing in her ears. All she knew was that she didn't want him so close to her face, to see that ugly, gloating smirk of his, and stretched out her left hand to push it away from her.

A wild green light flared crazily from her hand the moment it connected with his nose. The archer screamed as the light sizzled and singed his skin. As though it had a life of its own, her hand clamped down on his face, clawing onto his oily skin; two of her fingers practically dug into the corners of his eyes. His howls were muffled by her palm and he removed his hand from her neck to pry hers off. When that didn't work, his other hand joined in to help out. In his urgency he must have dropped his sword, but Ahnnie didn't register this as she drank in deep gulps of air.

Her senses slowly returned to her, but it wasn't until much later that she noticed the writhing man beneath her left hand. He had fallen onto his back by this time but still screamed like the devil had him by the feet. Her frown of confusion contorted into horror when she realized how the flesh was slowly sloughing off his skull, and how her index finger was so deep into his eye socket that she could feel the space between the bone and the eyeball.

Now it was her turn to scream. She turned her face away and yanked the flaring hand with all her might, but it was as though a magnetic connection held it in place; she simply could not let go.

" _Solas!_ " she wailed, thinking of the only person who could help her. "Solas! Oh God, help me! The mark won't stop! It won't stop - _it won't stop_! Solas, make it stop!"

She was loudly advertising her status as the Herald of Andraste by now, but in her terror, she didn't care. Every attempt to remove her hand simply jerked the archer's face along with it, causing her cries to become more urgent. If a Templar came up and cut her down now, she wouldn't have even noticed.

In fact, she didn't even notice the apostate elf shaking her by the shoulders, shouting in an attempt to cut through her voice: "I am here, I am here!"

With a gasp, Ahnnie clung her right hand onto his forearm. "Solas! Solas!" That was all she could say; she had not the mental capacity to speak anything else.

"Shh," he coaxed, and drew her into a warm embrace. "Hush, _da'len_..." What he said next was in a language completely foreign to her, and a gentle hand snaked down to enclose over her flaring left hand. After a few more chants, she felt the heat flee from her left hand, creeping back through her arm and into her stomach like a withdrawing snake until it was no more.

"It is done," Solas informed her. "You can move your hand now."

She only did so after a few moments, for she was shaking terribly. True to his word, her hand was hers to control again. But it hurt to move her fingers, so she lay the hand by her side. And then, remembering the archer, she turned her head from Solas' shoulder to look at him. "That man...is he...?"

The archer was sprawled on the ground with his arms to either side of him and his face; god, his face...it was burnt to an unrecognizable heap of black crisps and the eyes, two semi-melted balls of jelly, stared lifelessly at the sky.

"He is dead," Solas assured her. "He can do you no more harm."

A vulnerable squeak made its way through her mouth as she realized what that meant. "I killed him," she rasped. "Oh my god, I just killed somebody..."

"No, Ahnnie-"

"I fucking _murdered_ somebody!" she cried, and then convulsed into a series of violent sobs.

Solas opened his mouth to say something, but closed it soon afterwards. He realized he could only nod and whisper words of understanding as he enclosed her in another hug. The disconsolate girl wept into his tunic and held onto him as though he were her only lifeline left in this turbulent sea of madness.

* * *

 

The fighting was finally over - the Templars and their forces retreated, and the fires were put out to keep them from spreading. The refugees emerged from hiding a little while later, staring meekly at the destruction left in the battle's wake. But their spirits were emboldened upon seeing a symbol etched onto a parchment-colored flag flapping in the breeze; the symbol of the Inquisition, staring proudly over the village of the Crossroads, a mark of the victory that was won that day.

Ahnnie watched the sword-pierced sunburst eye as it yielded to the breeze's movement, undulating and contorting in such a way that it almost seemed as if it was blinking back at her. She could just make out the runic words etched below, but made no special effort to decipher them. Her attention went instead to the two Inquisition solders saluting her with their fists over their hearts.

Ahnnie returned the gesture after watching the others perform it.

"We are seeking Mother Giselle," Cassandra announced to them after they put down their hands.

"She is right over there," the female soldier said, pointing to a set of stairs behind the group. "You'll find her tending to the wounded."

"Thank you," Cassandra nodded, and ushered Ahnnie by the elbow in that direction. It seemed as though she was taking special pains to be gentle with the girl, especially after she and Varric stumbled upon Solas cradling her while she wept like a baby. The fighting had more or less subsided by then but Cassandra still allowed her a few moments to vent her emotions. For that, Ahnnie was thankful, though she still felt so broken on the inside.

It was easy to spy Mother Giselle from amongst the healers after reaching the top of the steps. Her red Chantry-robed form made her stand out like a cardinal among sparrows. Ahnnie hesitated, intimidated by the wounded lying so numerously about them, but Cassandra gave her a gentle push that animated her feet into walking again. She stopped behind the Chantry Mother, standing at a close yet polite distance.

"There are mages here who can heal your wounds," the Mother was saying gently to the soldier before her. "Lie still." Her voice was soft and had something of an accent to it. Ahnnie identified it as French, but she knew here in this world that its equivalent was Orlesian.

"Don't," the soldier ground out, "don't let them touch me, Mother...their magic...!"

"Turned to noble purpose," Mother Giselle assured him. "Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."

"But-"

"Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering."

The soldier was a full grown man and yet she called him 'dear boy', as though he were only five. He could easily have resisted her, choosing to disobey instead. But it worked like a charm; with naught but a sigh, he settled back down onto his bedroll, mollified into allowing the mage behind her approach him.

Mother Giselle straightened up to her feet and pulled back accordingly. She made to move to another patient, but Ahnnie remembered her purpose here and called out, "Mother Giselle?"

The Chantry Mother paused, then turned to look at her. She had the kindest eyes Ahnnie had ever seen and a rosy mouth set into a face of mocha-colored skin, lightly wrinkled. "I am," she affirmed. "And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

"Yes," she replied, "but I wish they weren't...calling me that..." Shaking her head, she returned to the point, "I heard that you asked for me?"

Mother Giselle regarded her thoughtfully before pulling her aside into a walk some distance away from the open air hospital. "Is something the matter, dear child?" she asked, sensing Ahnnie's disquiet.

Ahnnie gave the Mother a faint smile. The thought of telling her the truth felt like giving forth a church confession, which she had never done before. "I'm fine," she instead assured, "perhaps just a bit...tired."

Mother Giselle nodded. Her eyes turned elsewhere as they continued walking, slanting in pity whenever she gazed upon the charred ground below. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it," she said after a while, turning back to look at Ahnnie. "I won't lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us..."

Mother Giselle stopped at a spot where they could overlook the village easily, as well the grand falls beyond it. Ahnnie listened to the distant roars of the falling waters and found them soothing. "What happened was horrible," she agreed, more aware now than ever before of the fragility of life.

"Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason."

Ahnnie looked over at the Mother and found herself gazing into a pair of knowing brown eyes. "Go to them in Val Royeaux," the Mother continued. "Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you; give them something else to believe."

"But...how can I convince them?" Ahnnie asked. "I can't even fight to protect myself, much less change deep-rooted opinions." Her thoughts immediately turned to Chancellor Roderick; if the other clerics were the same...

"If I thought you incapable, I wouldn't suggest it," Mother Giselle rebutted gently.

"Would they even listen to me?"

"Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to...doubt." Once she knew she held the girl's interest, she went on, "Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

 _That makes sense,_ Ahnnie thought, nodding. _Putting it that way m_ _akes it sound less daunting. Still...it's a big task..._ "Thank you, Mother Giselle, for your advice," she said instead. She had no wish to burden the Mother with more doubting questions. "It's very kind of you."

She was rewarded by a beaming smile from Mother Giselle. "I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us...or destroy us."

Ahnnie should have been used to these 'chosen one' comments by now, but the brevity of Mother Giselle's last sentence weighed upon her with a strange sort of force. _Me? Build the Inquisition?_ Nonsense. She was just one person, and not even the leader of the Inquisition at that. _I think Cassandra is?_ she thought, recalling how readily the Seeker took to being an authority figure. _Or maybe it's Leliana?_ She would have to ask once she got back to the group. _But me,_ _I'm just the person who can close rifts. Nothing more._

"I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana with the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering," the Mother continued. "It is not much, but I will do whatever I can."

"Maybe if the schedule's right, you can leave with our group," Ahnnie suggested. "We wouldn't mind. Besides, it's rough out there...bandits, and all."

The Chantry Mother's face crinkled into another gentle smile. To Ahnnie's surprise, she reached out a hand to tuck a strand of black hair behind an ear, dark fingers brushing tenderly against the pale yellow skin. "Thank you, dear child. I will keep that in mind." And then she moved away, going back to the wounded patients like a mother bird to her lost little children.


	11. Blackwall

Progress marked their second week away from Haven. After settling themselves at the camp above the Crossroads, the quartet set to work doing what they could to aid the relief effort; hunting and foraging the surrounding countryside for extra food and healing herbs, joining in patrol rounds to watch for troubling activity, and constantly consulting with Scout Harding for the latest news in the Hinterlands.

The charity work was therapeutic to Ahnnie in particular. She visited the wounded soldiers and assisted the healers whenever she had the time. With every visit she felt as though she could atone for killing the enemy archer, even though he treated her like trash and would not have hesitated to kill her. There wasn't a moment when his mangled, charred face was absent from her mind...even when she was occupied with other things, he was still at the back of her thoughts, haunting her with his pitiful howls.

Other times she played with the children and helped their parents or guardians look after them while they were busy. When she was not doing either of these, she was out with the others doing either of the three aforementioned activities, though added to that list was the hunting of Fade rifts. Wherever there was rumored to be a rift, Cassandra would rally them all in a reconnaissance mission to confirm its existence before rushing in to put it out. Sometimes they came upon these rifts by chance, having barely any warning besides Ahnnie's vibrating hand before they were blade-to-claw with demons. These sorties occasionally took them far from their main camp and the result were smaller satellite camps that slowly accumulated in the area.

The rewards were few, but very promising: Inquisition forces, under the direction of Corporal Vale, managed to clear the East Roads of bandits and flush out some rogue Templars to the west. The people Cassandra sent to Dennet made headway with the horsemaster and were involved with setting up watchtowers in the area that would help the local farmers spy trouble before it could strike, and thanks to the gradual disappearance of the rifts, wolf activity was beginning to subside.

But one day, Cassandra called them all together for a mission that was slightly different from their regular activities. As they were busy saddling their mounts, she gave them a brief rundown of the upcoming task that piqued Ahnnie's interest greatly:

"Leliana sent word that one of her agents reported a man in Grey Warden regalia traveling the Hinterlands. I have just had it confirmed with a farmer named Giles that he goes by the name of Blackwall, and is conscripting farmers in an operation against bandits to the southwest of us. Apparently, he also helped the villagers repel demons when the Breach opened."

Ahnnie was unnerved to learn that demons had been present beyond the Frostbacks at the onset of the Breach, but a more pressing question was on her mind. "Why is this important?"

"Many Grey Wardens went missing after the Divine's death," Cassandra explained. "This one should be found, and questioned."

* * *

 

"How have you been faring, _da'len_?"

Ahnnie turned her head to find that Solas had allowed his Forder to fall behind Cassandra and Varric, stepping into pace with her. "I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "What does that word mean, though? _Dah-len_?"

"It is Elvish for 'little one', or 'little child'," he explained.

"Ah," Ahnnie nodded in comprehension. _So it's like how Vietnamese uses 'con' for kids._ "What should I call you, then?" Did the Elvish have pronouns for age and relation gradients, such as the Vietnamese _anh_ for males of brother-age, _chú_ for males of uncle-age, and _bác_ for those of grandparent-age, and so on? And if it did, would it be mandatory to call him by that, or was just 'you' fine? These questions reminded her of why she delighted in learning about cultures in the first place.

"You would call me _'hahren_ ', which means elder," Solas supplied.

"I see...so is there just ' _hahren_ ' for elder, or are there different  pronouns for different relations? And would you be expected to use them frequently?"

"A good question," Solas agreed. " _Hahren_ is, indeed, the only word for elder. Elvish does have words for relations such as 'father' and 'mother', and you would be more or less expected to use them. I should point out, however, that  _hahren_ is more commonly used to address elders in general beyond relatives, such as within a Dalish clan or the leader of a city alienage."

Ahnnie frowned. "If that's the case...I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you know more about this than I do, but...you don't look _that_ old." She scrutinized his features carefully. "I would say you don't look a day over thirty-five. Forty at most, and that's pushing it." _Had you been Vietnamese, I would call you 'ch_ _ú'._

She waited a while for his response, but he only gave her a cryptic smile in return.

Ahnnie couldn't help but grin as she shook her head. "Okay, fine, don't tell me your age...I'll just call you _hahren_ for the sake of wisdom. But, you know, being old is nothing to be ashamed of. If you ever want to confess..."

"My, you are persistent," Solas chuckled. She laughed as well and he waited for her to stop before asking, "Tell me, though; ever since what happened at the Crossroads with that man...have you noticed anything different in your mana?"

Ahnnie's smile immediately vanished. Her hands clenched a little harder at the reins, the left one in particular. "Not really," she mumbled, her eyes turning from the elf to focus on the trees.

"Are you sure?"

She bit down on her lower lip. "I'm sure," she said a moment later.

Solas sighed. "I understand how traumatizing it must have been. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable, but it seems as though you have the capability to use your mark for purposes other than closing rifts. I can help you to understand it, perhaps even control it-"

"No," she blurted out. "I don't want to. If it's not to close a rift, I never, _ever,_ want to use magic, _again._ "

Solas blinked. "I see," he nodded. "Very well, then. I shan't force the matter on you."

Ahnnie closed her eyes in a brief grimace before finally summoning the courage to look at Solas again. Was it just her, or did he seem a little hurt? "I'm sorry," she apologized in a softer tone. "I didn't mean to...I'm just scared..."

"It's all right, _da'len_ ," he assured her with an encouraging smile. "I understand."

* * *

 

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction, Seeker? This place seems more than a little deserted."

"I know what I'm doing, Varric," Cassandra said, and continued pressing down the road.

"Hey, just saying," Varric protested. "We passed by this place to get to the Crossroads, and there was nothing there."

"Well, it's possible that it's just rumor," Ahnnie put in, "but why would a farmer lie to a Seeker? They're called the Seekers of Truth, right?"

The dwarf turned to look at the human girl and bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Listen to her, she's getting better at jokes already!"

Ahnnie blushed. "I'm only repeating what I heard."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Varric assured her when his laughter subsided. "The Seekers _are_ famous for getting at the truth, more specifically as a check on Templar power. So you're right, mostly, but a farmer..." He lapsed into another fit of chuckling.

"I would not laugh if I were you, Varric Tethras," Cassandra retorted. "You never know what I may find out about you, if I were so inclined."

It took them a while to realize that Cassandra was being sarcastic; her tone was so serious, it sounded at first like a real threat. Then it was Ahnnie's turn to laugh as Varric held up his hands in defeat, his face expressing mock surrender.

"Fun fact: didya know the first Seekers were members of the original Inquisition?" Varric said a while later.

"Oh! No, I didn't," Ahnnie confessed. "That's interesting." She turned to Cassandra to see if the Seeker herself would divulge in any facts, but when she didn't, she turned back to Varric. "So it has something to do with the forming of the Circle and the Templar Order, right? Since you said the Seekers put a check on Templar power."

"You got it," Varric nodded. "But the Inquisition was even before that. The Seekers and Templars both came from them. In fact, the Inquisition was even before the _Chantry_. They formed some time after the First Blight to fight against what they called the 'tyranny of magic'. And then the Chantry convinced them with the Nevarran Accord to join under a banner of faith, which created the Circle of Magi, Templar Order, and the Seekers as you know them today."

"Wow. That's amazing," she remarked.

"I don't think the mages would agree," Varric joked, "but that's the history of the Inquisition for you."

It certainly gave some flesh and bones to the organization that, to Ahnnie, seemed a fledgling operation born on the whim of a dead Divine. Only vaguely was she aware of any 'original' Inquisition. Now that she knew some of the backstory, its purpose made more sense. It also felt motivating to know she was part of something that had existed long ago, that had a history predating the current institutions of present-day Thedas.

Then she frowned. "He's telling the truth, right?" she asked Cassandra warily.

Even Solas burst into laughter at this question. Cassandra's face was not visible, but there was a hint of a smirk as she replied, "For once, he is."

They took a veer to the west that brought them upon the shores of a small lake a quarter of an hour later. An island was visible on the waters in front of them, and the bubbling gurgle of a waterfall sounded somewhere beyond the island. When they arrived, Cassandra pulled them all to a stop so she could better survey the lay of the land.

"This would make a good place to camp," Solas commented as he studied the smooth, even ground before the lake. He had an eye for campsites, and founded a good handful of the satellite camps they had established.

"I will keep that in mind," Cassandra nodded. "For now..." She trailed off, her eyes squinting at something in the distance. "Do those look like docks to you?"

The Seeker was pointing at a series of jutting brown structures that appeared to break the surface of the lake, on the banks to the far right. They were very small, at least from this distance, so nothing for certain could be said of them. Whatever they were, it grew evident that they could not be reached by walking along the right bank; to that side the land ended in a steep slope, so steep it seemed as though the lake was situated atop a cliff. The only viable path was around the left, hugging close to a greater rock wall that ran around the perimeter of the lake.

The route having been decided, they urged their mounts in that direction. The path became so narrow that they had to go single file, and at one point they had to ford a little neck in the lake directly below the falls, but once they reached the other side they could comfortably traverse with some room to spare between them. As they approached their destination, the brown structures Cassandra spotted could clearly be identified as docks, and not too far ahead was the rectangular shape of a manmade structure.

"Hold," Cassandra urged, and dismounted. Following her lead, the others tied their mounts to nearby trees and proceeded on foot. Ahnnie soon knew why; the Seeker did not wish to alarm the small group of people gathered by the docks. She did not unsheathe her weapon, though, so perhaps the situation wasn't a hostile one.

"...make this a fight, not us," the robust voice of a man clad in dark armor carried over to them. He was addressing three well-built youths, dressed in the simple brown cloth that Ahnnie recognized as farmer's attire. Armed with wooden shields and simple axes, the youths gazed intently upon the armored man as he spoke, devouring in attentive silence every word as if their lives depended on it.

"Remember how to carry your shields!" the man continued. "You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise, it's useless!"

Ahnnie looked up at Cassandra, who returned her glance with a nod. "That looks like our man," she said. Gesturing for the girl to come forward with her, she strode confidently up to the group. "Warden Blackwall?" she called out, not even waiting for the men to register their arrival.

The armored man whirled around. He had an aquiline face framed by a dark, rugged beard, and his eyes burned fiercely. "You're not - how do you know my name?" he demanded. He stormed over to them and Ahnnie felt herself leaning back instinctively as he came close. "Who sent - ah!"

He was interrupted by the flight of an arrow, and in reflex raised his shield to block it. Ahnnie gave a start, for had he not been so fast, she would have had her brains speared through. Beside her, Cassandra unsheathed her sword as two armed men rushed into the clearing.

"Bandits," Blackwall spat. He glared at Ahnnie and Cassandra. "That's it; help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!" He lowered his shield and waved the farmers forward with an impatient gesture. "Conscripts! Here they come!"

The youths rallied around him, albeit with some hesitance, and charged to meet the bandit threat.

Ahnnie immediately withdrew the glaive from her back, though she felt reluctant to enter combat against other people so soon. She had not done so since they first reclaimed the Crossroads. With luck, she wouldn't have to do much. There wasn't many of them; only three, the archer and the two bravados.

Then three more rushed into the clearing, proving her wrong.

 _Well, there's four of us, and four of those guys,_ she thought, counting the Warden and his youths. _Those bandits are outnumbered six to eight._

Solas bought them an advantage with magic. It was clear the bandits had not expected it, screaming frightfully at the first sign of ice enclosing around their limbs. That made most of them fairly easy targets for Cassandra, the Warden, and Varric; the three farmer youths followed suit when they saw how the odds were turned in their favor. Ahnnie lingered directly behind them, the combat so close to her face and yet not within her reach. She found herself preferring it that way, up until one of the youths opened up his flank and a bandit made ready to cleave his weapon into it.

With a quick jab, Ahnnie buried the bladed end of her glaive into the bandit's side. He yelped and fell back, alerting his former target, who whirled around and ended his life with a sharp chop to the neck.

The youth gave her a grateful smile before going off to help one of his comrades; Ahnnie felt a little more encouraged than before and went after him, deciding she could provide some assistance without directly killing anyone.

"Watch your head!"

Ahnnie ducked as the same youth she helped out held a shield over her, stopping an arrow in its flight. "Thanks!" she chirped, and straightened up to discern the path of the arrow's trajectory. _Behind that tree,_ she thought. _If we don't get rid of that archer soon, he's going to be problematic._ She looked around, and then spotted Solas. Waving to catch his attention, she pointed to the tree and pantomimed the act of loosing an arrow.

The elf nodded and launched a magical attack in that direction. Satisfied, Ahnnie turned back to the matter at hand and helped the youth corner a lone bandit, backing him against another stand of trees close to the lake. With the threat of a glaive to his right and an axe to his left, the exhausted bandit threw down his arms and dashed past the gap between his two attackers. Unfortunately, he ran right into Blackwall and received a sword to the belly for his rudeness. Without so much as a blink, the bearded Warden shoved the dead bandit off his blade, watching as the corpse rolled into the high grass.

Of the six bandits that attacked them, only two survived and ran off into the wilderness. Thus ended their fight, just as quickly as it had begun. Ahnnie felt breathless with the exhalation of victory. The farmer youth beside her seemed just as ecstatic, and Ahnnie could only guess that his joy was all the greater for having been able to take on a bandit where previously he could not have even speared someone with a pitchfork. She knew the feeling. It was empowering.

"Good job," she nodded to him.

"You as well," he nodded back, and brushed the sweat from his flustered cheeks.

A _thunk_ in the ground brought her attention back to the Warden. Blackwall had pinned his sword into the earth as he strode towards his last kill. He knelt beside the corpse awhile, his great back turned to them. "Sorry bastards," he muttered a little later, and spat into the grass before making his way back. He stopped before his blade, where it was stuck ominously into the dirt.

"Good work, conscripts," he congratulated the youths. "Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could've...well, thieves are made, not born." He pointed a gloved hand to the north. "Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves."

The youths looked amongst themselves before setting off in that direction; the one alongside Ahnnie gave her a charming smile before he left, which she returned rather shyly. Only once they were gone did the group feel free to approach Blackwall. He watched them with wary eyes, noting their faces in turn. "You're no farmers," he said at last. "Why do you know my name? Who are you?"

"We know your name because we are agents of the Inquisition," Cassandra supplied. "We are here investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the death of the Divine."

Ahnnie widened her eyes at Cassandra in shock. She hadn't expected the Seeker to be so direct.

"Maker's balls," the Warden cursed. "The Wardens and the Divine? That can't - no, you're asking, so you don't really know." He shook his head. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Wardens killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

"I was not accusing the Wardens," Cassandra corrected him. "Yet. I simply need more information. We have only found you; where are the rest?"

Blackwall shrugged. "I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming."

Ahnnie frowned. "But then..." She pointed confusedly in the direction the farmer youths had gone.

"Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need," he explained to her. "These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me."

"I see," Ahnnie nodded. "So, you have the power to conscript even when it's not a Blight?"

"It's complicated; if there's a Blight, everyone has to help the effort to fight it. The treaties are ancient. Outside of Blights, it's only as binding as a clever tongue can make it."

"Interesting," Ahnnie remarked.

Blackwall looked at her and chuckled. "I suppose it is. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are - that's what helps."

"Do you have any clues as to where the other Wardens could have gone?" Cassandra then asked, taking back the reins on the questioning.

But he couldn't answer this question any better than the other one. "Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear _to_."

"Why have you not gone missing like the rest of them?"

"Well, maybe I was going to, or maybe there's a new directive but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years."

So many 'maybes', but no definite answer. Even Cassandra was at the end of her rope, and ended the interrogation when she could see no forthcoming developments. "It has been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this was of no help. I bid you a good day. Come," she said to Ahnnie, and the girl followed as the Seeker turned away, but she couldn't help staring back at the Warden behind them.

 _So, that's it?_ she wondered. _We're done here? He's done?_ Somehow, it didn't feel right.

His eyes met hers, and he frowned. "Inquisition...agents, did you say? Hold a moment." When they paused, Blackwall rushed up to them, his face urgent. "The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved."

"Go on," Cassandra prompted.

"If you're looking to put things right, maybe you need a Warden," Blackwall continued. "Maybe you need me."

The Seeker looked up him and down. "What can one Grey Warden do for the Inquisition?" she asked him skeptically.

"Save the fucking world, if pressed." He paused to let that sink in, then sighed. "Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."

Cassandra nodded and looked down at Ahnnie. "What do you think, Herald of Andraste?"

Ahnnie blinked. "M-me?" Her face reddened when Blackwall regarded her with a newfound curiosity. "Uh...why're you asking me?" _And now, of all times?_ "You know more about this than I do..."

Varric clapped her on the back. "You're the one who can stop the Breach, if that makes it any clearer. Y'know, you ought to take charge once in a while. You're not just here for decoration."

"She?" Blackwall pointed at her, and Ahnnie gave a facepalm.

"Yeah, I know, I know," the girl laughed, and showed him her left hand. "Let's not go into detail, please." That having been established, she looked up at Cassandra for guidance. She was not about to make a decision that went against the Seeker's pleasure.

"I do not object," Cassandra told her. "A Warden ally would be advantageous."

"Okay then," Ahnnie nodded. "Since my approval was so necessary"-she aimed a glance at Cassandra and Varric-"you're in. Welcome to the Inquisition, Blackwall."

It was as if a wall of ice had been broken between them. Though his face betrayed no joy, the tone of his voice was warm and pleased. "Good to hear," the Warden mused. "We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long." He reached a hand for his blade and lifted it clean out of the dirt. Brushing it slightly, he slapped it back into its scabbard. "This Warden walks with the Inquisition," he declared.

"Hope you don't mind doing some actual walking, then," Varric said, and jerked a thumb down at the path. "We've got horses over there, but you seem a little too heavy to share one - no offense - and it's a long way back to camp."

"None taken," Blackwall assured him. "I've got a mount round back. I'll be just a few."

They went ahead and mounted their steeds while he fetched his. When he returned, Blackwall was sitting astride a tall, broad-shouldered charger almost as dark as the armor he wore. His essentials were all tucked in the saddlebags, so there had been no time wasted on any picking or packing. When they returned to the Crossroads camp that afternoon, they all came back one ally richer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Part 1 of the Otherworlder Series. Stay tuned for Part 2: Whispers of the Just, which should come out shortly. Until then, see you next time :).


End file.
